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OF  HONOUR 


OSON 


OF  THE 
UNiVEWMTY 


THE  LEAD  OF  HONOUR 


Sargent  lEnmtt 

From  a  painting  by   Frank   CC.   SXCerrill 


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THE  LEAD 
OF  HONOUR 


By 

Jfanral  IRtrlfariiHfltt 


With  a  frontispiece  in  colour  by 
ff rank  GJ.  iHtrriU 


Sflfitfltt  :::  £.  QL  #a0?  & 

(Eompattg    :::    fHbrrrrx 


Copyright,  igio 
By  L.  C.  Page  &  Company 

(incorporated) 

Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall>  London 

All  rights  reserved 


First  Impression,  July,    1910 
Second  Impression,  August,   1910 
Third  Impression,  September,  1910 


ElectrotyPtd  and  Printed  by 
THE  COLONIAL  PRESS 
C.  H.  Simonds  &*  Co.,  Boston,  U.S.A. 


5>6 
"Rs; 

Pan 


TO 

THE  ONE  WHO    IS  THE  INSPIRATION   OF   ALL 

THAT   IS   BEST   IN   THESE   PAGES 

1.  K. 


MG37358 


CONTENTS 


BOOK   I  — THE   SCHOOLMASTER 

^PTBR 

I.    Youth  and  Ambition 
II.    The  Captain's  Advice 
III.    Juleps  and  Politics 


IV.    A  Gentleman  of  the  Old  School 
V.    The  House  of  the  Spaniards 


3 

18 
26 
36 
5i 


BOOK   II  — THE   LAWYER 

L    Pictures  in  the  Fire 69 

II.    The  Opened  Wound 81 

III.  A  Demand  of  Honour 95 

IV.  His  First  Case 103 

V.    Magnetism 114 

VI.    To  Be  Hanged  by  the  Neck  until  Dead        .  122 

VII.    One  Means  of  Escape 137 

VIII.    The  Captain's  Joke 148 

IX.    A  Promise  for  the  Future 160 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS 

BOOK  III  — THE   LOVER 

CHAPTII  FACE 

I.  After  Seven  Years 171 

II.  The  Voice  of  the  Past 183 

III.  Mammy  Dicey's  Story 199 

IV.  Slaves  for  Stakes 215 

V.  Candlelight 229 

VI.  His  Wedding  Present 242 

VII.  The  Hour  of  the  Wedding 253 

VIII.  Orange  Blossoms  and  Prison  Bars    .       .       .  265 

IX.  The  Honourable  Sargent  Everett    .       .       .  282 

X.  The  Lead  of  Honour 292 

XI.  A  Road  to  Happiness 301 

XII.  The  Music  of  His  Voice 317 

XIII.  The  Garden  of  Shadows 327 


BOOK    I 
THE    SCHOOLMASTER 


THE  LEAD  OF  HONOUR 


CHAPTER   I 

YOUTH    AND  AMBITION 

Beyond  the  gleam  of  the  torch  basket  at  the  mast- 
head, the  bosom  of  the  great  Father  of  Waters  wi- 
dened into  a  sea,  infinite  in  its  solitude,  desolately  vast 
in  the  impending  gloom  of  the  purple  night.  An 
orange  coloured  moon  hovered  on  the  dark  strip  of 
the  horizon;  the  hot  breeze  of  a  Southern  August 
was  stirring  fitfully. 

He  was  standing  alone  on  the  upper  deck  of  the 
boat,  looking  straight  before  him  with  that  intensity 
of  gaze  and  purpose  in  his  deep  hazel  eyes  that  our 
grandfathers  tell  us  about  —  a  wonderful  expression 
in  which  the  energy  of  his  thoughts  seemed  to  throw 
out  a  flamelike  glow  holding  the  observer  spellbound 
and  charmed  into  forgetfulness.  He  was  young  then, 
little  over  twenty,  and  his  thin,  slight  figure,  erect  and 
full  of  simple  dignity,  was  clothed  in  plain  garments 
of  black,  relieved  at  the  wrist  bands  with  fine  white 
linen  and  at  the  collar  by  a  high  stock  whose  pointed 
ends  extended  up  beyond  his  chin.  His  face,  delicately 
moulded  and  oval  to  perfection,  had  written  upon  it, 

3 


4  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

in  the  freshness  of  its  youth,  all  the  hopes  and  desires 
and  ambitions  that  remained  with  him  to  the  end  — 
for  it  seems  that  he  never  lost  his  youthful  appreciation 
of  life,  nor  knew  what  it  meant  to  sink  under  disap- 
pointments. In  his  hand  he  carried  a  small  cane  which 
he  used  to  aid  him  in  walking  and  in  standing  firmly ; 
for  one  leg  was  shrunken  into  a  slight  deformity. 

On  the  intense,  lonely  stillness  of  the  night  the 
throbbing  puffs  of  the  engines  seemed  the  voice  of 
the  great  river  —  relentless,  solemn,  insistent.  The 
tinkling  of  the  pilot's  bell  sounded  intermittently  from 
the  engine-room;  and  monotonously  reiterated,  came 
the  weird  call  of  the  leadsman  as  he  sounded  the 
depths  of  the  uncertain  channel. 

"  M-a-r-k  eight !  M-a-r-k  eight !  Quarter  less 
eight!" 

Sargent  Everett  turned  away  from  the  deepening 
gloom  of  the  river,  restless  and  impatient,  now  that 
his  destination  was  so  near.  Three  days,  if  all  went 
well,  would  see  him  in  the  town  he  had  chosen  for  the 
commencement  of  his  career. 

The  leadsman's  call  broke  more  harshly  on  the 
night.  "  Mark  four !  Mark  four !  Quarter  — 
less  —  " 

Suddenly  the  pulsing  of  the  engines  stopped  and 
the  boat  drifted  into  the  enveloping  shadows  of  the 
shore.  The  branches  of  a  tree  swept  the  upper  deck, 
leaving  sprays  of  moss  tangled  in  the  railing.  A  bell 
crashed  out  a  signal  of  alarm  and  the  boat  came  to  a 
full  stop. 

"  Tie  up  and  get  out  there  and  sound  that  channel, 
Jiggetts,"  came  a  sonorous  voice  from  the  lower  deck. 
"  I'm  not  a-countin'  on  goin'  a-ground  here  to-night. 


YOUTH    AND    AMBITION  5 

God  knows  what  this  old  river's  been  up  to  since  we 
passed  up,  two  months  ago." 

Directly  following  the  words,  a  huge  line  of  rope 
went  coiling  through  the  air  to  the  shore.  Two  ne- 
groes sprang  after  it,  hastily  wrapping  it  around  a 
mammoth  cottonwood  tree  that  towered  out  of  the 
darkness.  A  skiff  shot  out  from  the  boat;  two  men 
at  the  oars,  and  one  standing  well  forward  recording 
the  depth  as  they  moved  carefully  along. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  boat  became  enveloped  once 
more  in  the  stillness  of  the  night;  the  flare  from  the 
torch  baskets  at  the  masthead  gleamed  upon  a  shore 
of  endless  willows,  a  distant  line  of  cypresses,  a  land 
where  seemingly  no  explorer  had  yet  penetrated.  The 
call  of  the  leadsman  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  dying 
away  at  last  to  an  echo. 

"  Mighty  sorry  to  tie  up."  The  Captain's  voice 
broke  the  stillness  as  he  approached  the  young  trav- 
eller, "  but  I  reckon  it's  better  than  runnin'  on  one 
of  them  bars  and  restin'  there  till  another  boat  comes 
along  and  pulls  us  off.  I  reckon  you'd  rather  run  the 
chance,  hey,  just  so's  you  could  get  to  the  end  of  your 
travellin'.  I  know  how  you  feel.  You're  just  itching 
to  get  there  this  minute  and  get  to  work  —  ain't  it 
the  truth?" 

The  Captain,  a  rugged  pioneer,  known  from  one 
end  of  the  river  to  the  other,  shoved  his  hands  deep 
into  his  pockets  and  peered  into  the  darkness. 

"  Yes,  I  want  to  get  there,  Captain.  I'm  impatient 
and  restless  and  all  that,  —  and  yet,"  he  hesitated, 
following  the  glance  of  the  man  beside  him.  "  I  be- 
lieve I've  fallen  under  the  spell  of  this  old  river.  At 
first  it  made  me  think  of  the  ocean  in  its  breadth  and 


6  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

loneliness,  but  I  see  now  that  it  is  not  the  same  at  all. 
This  wilderness  of  lowlands  that  we  have  been  passing 
through  for  the  last  week  makes  it  seem  even  more 
desolate  and  forsaken.  Yet  —  in  its  very  solitude 
one  feels  a  certain  nearness  to  God,"  he  ended  re- 
flectively. 

The  old  Captain's  eyes  shifted  from  the  black 
shore,  deepening,  as  his  gaze  lingered  on  the  broad 
expanse  of  water,  into  an  expression  much  like  that 
of  a  dog  that  gazes  into  the  eyes  of  the  master  it 
worships. 

"  We-ell,  I  reckon  I'm  sorter  fond  of  it,  too. 
When  a  feller's  lived  with  a  thing  fifty  years  he's 
mighty  likely  to  have  some  sorter  feelin'  for  it."  His 
eyes  twinkled  as  he  continued,  "  Y'  know,  sir,  that 
old  river  always  puts  me  in  mind  of  a  woman;  it's 
changing  its  mind  all  the  time,  it's  cantankerous  — 
you  can't  any  more  count  on  it  than  a  bad  penny,  and 
when  it  takes  a  notion  to  change  its  channel,  it  just 
goes  ahead  and  does  it  and  don't  say  a  thing.  Why, 
sir,  haven't  I  see  it  cut  off  ten  miles  in  one  place  by 
goin'  straight  through  when  it  used  to  make  a  bend! 
I  like  it,  though,  just  because  it's  notionate  and  don't 
bother  about  anybody.  D'  you  ever  hear  the  old 
sayin'  that  when  the  good  Lord  made  it,  He  washed 
His  hands  in  it  and  told  it  to  go  where  it  damn 
pleased?  Well,  sir,"  the  old  fellow  threw  back  his 
head  and  let  out  a  gust  of  laughter,  "  it's  been  doin' 
that  pretty  nigh  ever  since !  " 

He  turned  around  as  he  ended  so  that  he  looked 
into  the  young  man's  face,  and  in  the  moments  of 
silence  that  followed,  the  mass  of  wrinkles  about  his 
eyes  moved  into  an  expression  of  half  mirth,  half  sad- 


YOUTH    AND    AMBITION  7 

ness.  He  had  liked  the  youngster,  as  he  called  him, 
since  the  moment  he  had  come  aboard  at  St.  Louis 
and  taken  passage  for  the  South.  Something  in  Sar- 
gent Everett's  peculiarly  winning  manner,  in  his  fresh 
good  humour  and  manliness,  or  perhaps  a  sympathy 
for  his  deformity,  had  awakened  an  interest  in  the 
old  boatman.  What  it  was  he  did  not  stop  to  con- 
sider, but  he  liked  the  boy,  and  now  that  his  long 
journey  was  nearing  its  end,  he  felt  a  pang  of  regret 
that  was  new  to  him.  Looking  into  the  bright,  hope- 
ful face  before  him,  he  thought  that,  after  all,  youth 
was  the  only  period  of  life  worth  living. 

"  An'  so  you're  another  one  of  them  fellers  who're 
comin'  down  here  to  make  their  fortunes,"  he  finally 
said,  as  if  more  in  comment  than  in  question. 

The  young  fellow's  face  brightened  responsively. 

"  I  hope  it  will  be  my  fortune  —  but  at  present  it 
is  more  a  living  I  am  seeking." 

The  Captain  put  out  both  hands,  taking  firm  hold 
of  the  young  fellow's  arms  and  looking  squarely  into 
his  face. 

"  Then  why  in  the  devil  did  you  come  down  here  ?  " 
he  said  sharply.  "  It's  no  place  for  the  likes  of  you ! 
You're  not  the  sort  of  youngster  for  this  kind  of  rough 
life.  Why  didn't  you  go  to  a  big  town,  son?  This 
country's  for  pioneers." 

The  young  fellow  drew  himself  away,  a  look  of  pain 
flashing  across  his  face. 

"  I'm  not  delicate,"  he  said  quickly.  "  I'm  very 
strong.  I  was  the  best  swimmer  at  college.  You 
think  because  my  leg  is  bad  that  I  can't  do  what  other 
men  have  done !    Give  me  time  and  I'll  show  you !  " 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  your  feelings,  lad,"  the  old 


8  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

fellow  answered  slowly,  relighting  the  pipe  which  he 
held  always  in  his  mouth.  "  I  know  darned  well 
you've  got  grit  enough  to  pull  you  through,  but  why, 
of  all  places  in  this  country,  you  should  have  chosen 
Natchez  —  kinder  puzzles  me.  Haven't  you  ever 
heerd  about  what  they  call  *  Natchez-under-the-Hill  ?  ' 
Why,  sir,  it's  the  toughest  hole  on  the  river !  " 

"  It  was  the  offer  I  had  that  brought  me,  Captain. 
New  England  is  crowded  with  school-teachers ;  there 
was  nothing  for  me  to  do,  and  I  had  to  work.  My 
father  was  a  sea  captain,  as  I  told  you,  and  in  the  year 
1812  he  lost  everything.  Since  then  we  have  been 
very  poor.  I  had  to  do  something  —  and  I  had  this 
offer  down  here." 

The  Captain  drew  at  his  pipe  reflectively,  letting 
the  words  of  the  young  man  die  away  on  the  still- 
ness of  the  night. 

"  So  you're  goin'  to  be  a  school-teacher !  "  The 
words  came  so  frankly  full  of  disappointment  that  the 
young  fellow  laughed  outright. 

"  Not  always,  I  hope,"  he  answered,  still  smiling. 
"  As  soon  as  I  finish  studying  for  the  examinations, 
I  hope  to  be  admitted  to  the  bar.  Then  I  can  practise 
law." 

The  Captain  gave  an  expressive  grunt. 

"  That's  worse  yet  —  a  lawyer  —  begad !  Why, 
boy,  what  chance'll  you  have  in  this  hotbed  of  pio- 
neers and  adventurers  that's  been  flockin'  down  here 
for  the  last  fifteen  years  ?  Why,  sir,  with  shin-plaster 
currency  and  rich  cotton  plantations  and  more  slaves 
than  they  know  what  to  do  with,  and  gambling  and 
drinking  all  the  time  —  what  can  a  youngster  like  you 
expect  to  do !  "    The  old  fellow's  head  wagged  doubt- 


YOUTH    AND    AMBITION  9 

fully.  "  I'd  a  heap  rather  see  you  go  all  the  way  down 
to  New  'leans  with  me  and  take  a  vessel  back  to  where 
you  come  from  than  stop  off  in  this  here  country,"  he 
added  with  another  expressive  grunt  and  a  deep  dig 
into  his  pockets. 

"  You  think,  then,"  the  young  fellow  smiled  with 
a  courage  that  felt  no  dampening  from  the  advice 
given.  "  You  think  I'm  not  fit  to  make  my  way  in 
the  community  you  describe?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  that's  exactly  what  I'm  a-thinkin'. 
You've  been  brought  up  different  from  these  folks 
and  you  haven't  the  first  inkling  of  the  life  down  here. 
It'll  go  powerful  hard  on  you  and  I  don't  see  where 
the  good'll  come  in." 

"  Still  you  are  bound  to  admit  that  it  is  a  good  place 
for  a  lawyer,"  the  youth  answered,  unabashed. 

"  Ye-es,  I  grant  you  that.  Natchez  is  only  about 
fifty  miles  from  Jackson,  and  I  suppose  your  head's 
already  set  on  the  Capitol.  'Tain't  what  you're  goin' 
to  make  out  of  it  that's  a-worryin'  me  —  it's  what  in 
the  devil's  going  to  become  of  you,  with  that  set  of 
reckless  spendthrifts.  Ho,  there,  Jiggetts ! "  He 
sprang  forward  and  peered  down  at  the  returning 
skiff.     "  How  'bout  the  channel?  " 

"  All  right,  sir.  We  can  make  it  safe.  Same  as 
when  we  came  up,"  a  voice  answered  out  of  the  dark- 
ness. 

"  How  'bout  wood  —  got  enough  ?  "  the  Captain 
called  down  to  the  engineer  who  stood  on  the  lower 
deck. 

"  Plenty  to  get  us  to  ole  man  Vick's  plantation,  and 
I'm  a-countin'  on  bein'  thar  to-morrow  mornin'." 

"  Good !    Let's  pull  out  and  get  ahead  agin." 


10  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

A  little  later  the  boat  was  pushing  towards  the 
middle  stream,  the  shore  dwindling  on  each  side  to 
a  thin,  black  ribbon.  The  moon  had  risen  well  into 
the  sky  and  was  shedding  its  cold  light  over  the  glassy- 
surface  of  the  river;  the  deep  puffs  of  the  engines 
sent  columns  of  black  smoke  far  up  into  the  clear 
heavens. 

"  Come  over  here,  youngster,"  called  the  Captain 
from  the  forward  deck,  where  he  had  settled  himself 
into  a  chair,  his  feet  elevated  on  the  railing  to  the 
level  of  his  head,  the  glow  from  his  pipe  gleaming  full 
into  his  face.  "  Come  over  here  and  sit  down.  You 
ain't  sleepy,  yet,  I  reckon  —  are  you  ?  " 

From  where  they  sat  the  forward  part  of  the  lower 
deck  was  in  full  view.  Two  torch  baskets,  filled  with 
blazing  pine,  brilliantly  illuminated  that  part  of  the 
boat.  On  both  sides  were  piles  of  meal  and  corn, 
sacks  of  salt  meat  and  barrels  of  flour,  and  two  bales 
of  cotton  on  their  way  to  New  Orleans,  and  thence 
to  Boston  by  sea  —  the  first  bales  of  that  season. 

In  the  centre,  where  the  light  fell  strongest,  was 
a  group  of  negroes ;  some  lying  full  length  in  the  deep 
sleep  of  exhaustion,  others  gathered  in  small  circles 
from  which  came  the  sound  of  rattling  dice.  The 
twanging  of  a  banjo  and  the  sound  of  many  shuffling 
feet  floated  out  softly  on  the  silent  river. 

When  the  young  man  had  taken  his  seat  beside  the 
Captain,  the  old  fellow  laid  his  hand  on  his  shoulder, 
almost  affectionately. 

"  If  you're  bent  and  determined  on  gettin'  off  at 
Natchez,"  he  began  between  short  puffs  at  his  pipe, 
"  I've  a  mind  to  give  you  some  advice.  Want  to  hear 
it?" 


YOUTH    AND   AMBITION  11 

"  Of  course  I  do,  Captain,"  he  answered  quickly. 
"  But  I  don't  want  you  to  think  I  shall  not  succeed 
there.  When  a  fellow  is  willing  to  work,  and  over- 
flowing with  energy  and  ambition,  success  is  bound 
to  come.  I  know  it  will  come  to  me  —  I'm  going  to 
it.  And  if  the  fight  is  to  be  a  difficult  one,  as  you  say," 
he  added  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  "  perhaps  it 
will  make  me  all  the  stronger  for  the  struggle.  You 
are  not  going  to  discourage  me,  Captain,  no  matter 
how  wild  or  savage  you  paint  this  country.  I  am 
going  to  stop  here." 

The  Captain's  heavy  hand  fell  on  the  young  man's 
knee  with  a  hearty  slap,  and  for  a  moment  he  looked 
into  the  brave  face  before  him  yearningly. 

"  You've  got  the  right  spirit,  lad.  I'm  mighty  glad 
to  see  it,  too.  But  y'  see  I'm  a  powerful  lot  of  years 
older  than  you  —  how  many  d'  I  tell  you  t'other 
day?" 

"  Forty-three." 

"  We-ell,  you  see,  forty-three  years  of  experience  is 
worth  something,  I'd  let  you  know.  I've  seen  this 
country  almost  from  the  beginning  of  the  white  set- 
tlements. I  used  to  come  down  here  on  flat  boats 
with  my  pa,  way  back  in  the  days  of  the  Revolution, 
and  when  we  reached  New  'leans,  we'd  go  all  the  way 
back  to  Vincennes  in  wagons.  Ugh !  those  were  days 
for  you!  And  nights,  too,  with  panthers  howling 
round  our  prairie  schooners,  and  Indians  tryin'  to  slip 
up  and  scalp  you  'most  any  time.  Natchez  belonged 
to  the  Spaniards  then  —  you'll  see  old  Gayosa's  gov- 
ernment house  still  standin'  there.  But  now,  since 
Mississippi's  been  let  in  as  a  State,  it  seems  to  me  like 
'most  everybody's  been  tryin'  to  get  down  here,     If 


12  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

many  more  of  you  Yankees  come  on  down,  we'll  soon 
be  a  populated  country." 

"  Then  you  like  Yankees  —  you  do  not  think  that 
will  make  me  unpopular  —  down  here  ?  "  the  young 
fellow  interrupted. 

"  Shucks !  It  ain't  where  a  man  comes  from."  The 
old  fellow  uncrossed  his  legs  and  crossed  them  again. 
"  It's  the  man  himself.  That's  just  what  I  was  about 
to  tell  you.  If  a  man's  a  good  feller,  then  folks'll  treat 
him  like  one;  but  if  he  comes  down  here  with  a  lot 
of  bottled-up  notions  from  that  there  cold  country  of 
yours,  they'll  not  have  much  use  for  him.  And  that's 
where  you've  got  to  be  precious  careful.  I  tell  you 
right  now,  if  you  make  a  hit  at  the  start,  it  won't  take 
you  long  to  win  out.  Go  in  for  a  good  time,  show 
'em  you're  a  good  feller,  and  take  my  word  for  it, 
they'll  think  you're  a  heap  smarter  than  if  you  spend 
your  time  tryin'  to  ram  your  book  knowledge  down, 
their  throats." 

The  young  fellow  remained  silent,  reflecting  over 
the  Captain's  advice.  Through  its  crudities,  he  was 
beginning  to  see  and  appreciate  the  viewpoint  of  one 
whom  experience  had  made  a  reader  of  human  nature. 

"  At  first,  go  easy,  and  take  things  as  they  come ; 
don't  air  your  own  opinions  every  chance  you  get; 
don't  strut  around  like  some  young  lawyers  I  see,  with 
a  long  face,  and  a  head  full  of  —  what  d'  you  call  that 
feller  that  wrote  the  big  book  ?  " 

"Blackstone?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  that's  the  one.  Don't  always  be  talkin' 
about  him  and  lookin'  as  independent  as  a  wood-saw- 
yer's clerk.  You  know  exactly  what  I  mean."  The 
Captain  tilted  his  chair  to  a  more  dangerous  angle. 


YOUTH   AND   AMBITION  13 

u  If  you'll  make  yourself  one  of  'em,  you'll  come  out 
all  right  —  I'll  bet  my  bottom  dollar  on  that !  For 
you've  got  a  way  with  you,  as  the  sayin'  goes,  and 
that's  the  principal  thing  a  feller  needs  in  this  world." 

"  The  only  trouble  is,"  the  young  man  answered, 
smiling  broadly,  "  that  I  have  got  some  old-fashioned 
principles,  as  you  call  them,  and  convictions,  too." 

"  Damn  your  convictions."  The  Captain's  chair 
came  to  the  floor  with  a  crash.  "  That's  what  ruins 
more  men  than  anything  else  —  convictions !  I  say 
if  you've  got  'em,  keep  'em  to  yourself  —  don't  let 
'em  out !  Remember,  you're  goin'  to  a  country  where 
everything  is  wide  open  and  you've  got  to  be  one  of 
the  boys  —  or  you  might  just  as  well  turn  your  head 
back  to  where  you  come  from." 

The  young  fellow  laughed  heartily.  Edging  his 
chair  closer  to  the  Captain,  he  watched  the  play  of 
his  features  in  the  glow  from  his  pipe.  The  thousand 
wrinkles  about  his  eyes  changed  eloquently  with  the 
intenseness  of  his  words.  "  Evidently  you  have  de- 
cided that  I  am  terribly  solemn,  Captain.  But  you 
are  wrong,"  he  said,  still  laughing  easily.  "  I  enjoy 
life,  and  a  good  time  as  much  as  anybody  —  perhaps 
more  than  most!  Only  I  haven't  taken  that  enjoy- 
ment in  gambling  and  drinking,  which  you  seem  to 
think  so  necessary." 

For  answer,  the  old  man's  head  shook  doubtfully. 

"  Then  you'd  better  give  up  being  a  lawyer  down 
here,"  his  grey  eyes  danced  merrily.  "  Unless,"  his 
hands  came  together  with  a  loud  clap,  "  unless  — 
you'd  like  to  give  'em  the  idea  you're  a  sport,  and 
at  the  same  time  not  be  one.  Gee  whilligens !  "  he 
cried,  laughing  until  the  tears  rolled  down  his  fur- 


14  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

rowed  cheeks.  "  That  would  be  a  fine  set  out.  Lis- 
ten, youngster,  I'm  going  to  tell  you  how  to  do  it,  and 
if  you  don't  get  'em  coming  your  way  right  from  the 
jump,  my  name's  not  Benjamin  Mentdrop.  Now,  first 
of  all,  when  you  land  at  Natchez,  ride  right  up  the 
hill  to  the  Mansion  House.  You'll  see  a  lot  of  fellers 
loafing  'round  there  to  find  who  come  on  the  boat  — 
what  you  are  and  what's  your  business  —  you  know 
the  kind  I  mean;  the  sort  whose  business  is  finding 
out  other  people's.  Then,  there's  always  a  lot  of 
the  bloods  of  the  town  there,  too.  Well,  don't  let  'em 
know  you've  even  seen  'em.  Just  walk  in  and  sign 
your  name  with  a  flourish,  so,"  his  hand  swept  the 
air,  with  a  rather  dangerous  gesture  for  a  pen.  "  Just 
as  soon  as  you're  through,  you'll  see  'em  go  up  and 
read  your  name,  and  when  they  all  are  eyeing  you, 
just  walk  over  to  the  bar  —  so."  Here  the  Captain 
got  up  and  swaggered  across  the  deck  with  a  bravado 
that  bespoke  personal  experience.  "  And  order  — 
plenty  loud  enough  for  the  crowd  to  hear  what  you're 
savin'  —  a  bottle  o'  champagne  and  a  box  o'  cigars 
sent  up  to  your  room.  I  tell  you,  sir,"  taking  his  seat 
again,  "  that'll  make  your  reputation  without  any 
waiting." 

The  young  fellow  joined  in  the  infectious  laughter 
of  the  Captain.  It  was  too  natural  a  performance 
not  to  show  that  the  old  fellow  was  describing  his  own 
methods. 

"  I'm  afraid  that  reputation  would  be  one  I'd  never 
outlive,"  he  said,  when  they  had  become  serious  again. 
"  What  do  you  suppose  would  become  of  my  position 
as  tutor  in  the  family  I'm  going  to?  " 

"  Position-your-grandaddy !    The  thing  is  to  make 


YOUTH    AND    AMBITION  15 

a  hit;  you  don't  have  to  live  up  to  it,"  the  Captain 
promptly  rejoined.  "  All  you  want  is  to  have  the 
crowd  see  you  know  a  thing  or  two  and  they'll  take 
you  up  before  you  know  it.  And  if  you're  going  to 
be  a  lawyer,  you  want  these  fellows'  cases,  and  I  tell 
you  right  now,  you've  got  to  play  'em  a  bit.  When 
you  get  as  old  as  I  am  you'll  see  then  how  this  whole 
blamed  thing  they  call  life  is  nothin'  more'n  less  than 
a  steady  game  of  bluff  —  right  straight  through !  " 

The  boat  was  swinging  into  a  broad  bend  of  the 
river  when  he  finished,  and  through  the  clarity  of  the 
night,  a  long  line  of  hills  was  coming  into  view  on  the 
eastern  horizon.  The  long  journey  through  banks 
of  endless  flat  country  was  left  behind  and  the  sloping 
hills  rose  as  if  to  extend  a  welcome  to  the  voyagers. 

"  That's  old  Vick's  plantation  across  the  point,"  the 
Captain  said,  rising  and  stretching  his  arms  above  his 
head.  "Looks  like  we're  near  there,  don't  it;  but 
it'll  be  mornin'  before  we  land."  Looking  at  his  large 
watch,  its  open  face  characteristic  of  its  owner,  he 
gave  an  exclamation  of  surprise  and  turning  away 
hurried  down  the  ladder  to  the  lower  deck. 

"  Don't  forget  what  I've  been  telling  you !  "  he 
called  back  as  he  disappeared.  "  I  wa'n't  born  yes- 
terday, nor  the  day  before  neither." 

The  young  fellow  walked  forward  when  he  was 
alone,  and  stood  where  he  could  see  beneath  him  the 
prow  of  the  boat  pushing  its  way  into  the  impene- 
trable blue  of  the  broad  stream.  He  had  felt  the 
influence  of  the  river  that  night  more  than  at  any  time 
during  his  voyage.  Its  immensity,  its  awfulness, 
gripped  him  with  a  new  understanding  of  eternity. 
The   endless  legends   it  embodied   rose  before  him; 


16  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

gorgeous  pageants  passed  in  review;  into  his  vision 
came  the  long  procession  of  pioneers  who  had  set  sail 
upon  these  waters;  De  Soto  first,  who  slept  now 
within  its  enveloping  solitude,  afterwards  Joliet  and 
Marquette,  La  Salle  with  his  cross  of  conquest  and  his 
flag  of  France,  the  Spaniards  from  the  Mexican  Gulf 
clashing  with  the  English  out  of  the  North,  and  al- 
ways, coming  first  upon  the  river  and  still  present  in 
their  silent,  stealthy  canoes,  the  real  owners  of  its 
breadth  and  length  —  the  Red  Men.  All  these  he 
saw  pushing  their  way  along  and  seeking  their  for- 
tune, even  as  he  was  doing  now. 

His  face  was  turned  towards  the  south,  the  place 
to  which  his  destiny  was  calling  him;  in  it  lay  the 
mystery  of  his  future.  Far  behind  him  was  the  land 
of  his  birth,  which  held  the  compelling  force  that  was 
driving  him  on  and  on  to  that  future,  as  relentlessly 
as  the  silent  river  was  sweeping  to  the  sea. 

In  an  incident  of  his  childhood  lay  this  force  which 
had  made  the  severing  of  home  ties  less  bitter  and 
the  setting  out  towards  an  unknown  country  the  first 
step  in  the  realization  of  years  of  determination.  So 
filled  with  suffering  was  this  incident  that,  after  twelve 
years,  it  lived  in  his  thoughts  with  insistent  detail. 

It  had  happened  in  an  apple  orchard  in  Maine. 
There  had  been  a  day  of  great  festivity,  gay  in  the 
gathering  of  apples,  and  in  the  knowledge  that  a  ship 
had  been  sighted  in  which  the  sea  captain,  his  father, 
was  returning  from  a  six  months'  voyage.  He  saw 
himself  as  a  little  limping  boy  who  had  just  come 
home  from  the  town  school,  flushed  with  pride  at  the 
success  of  his  first  speech;  then  he  saw  himself  late 
in  the  day,  when  the  ship  had  anchored  and  the  friends 


YOUTH    AND    AMBITION  17 

had  gathered  in  a  circle  over  the  completed  work, 
repeating  the  speech  to  the  enthusiastic  crowd. 

How  well  he  remembered  the  encouraging  faces, 
the  baskets  of  red  apples  all  about,  the  pungent  smell 
of  the  fruit,  the  twisted  branches  of  the  trees  back 
of  them,  and  beyond,  far  down  the  sloping  hill,  the 
great  Atlantic  on  which  the  ship  had  come  to  anchor ! 
His  first  speech!  Even  the  words  stuck  in  his  mem- 
ory! Then,  while  the  great  joy  he  had  felt  in  their 
applause  was  flushing  his  face  and  making  him  tingle 
with  the  first  stirrings  of  awakened  talent,  he  had  been 
lifted  into  the  arms  of  the  sea  captain  who  had  stolen 
up  behind  the  tree  and  heard  him.  In  that  moment 
came  the  blow  which  was  yet  to  mar  or  make  him. 
The  proud  father,  holding  him  up  before  the  crowd, 
had  cried  out  with  a  great  roar  of  laughter: 

"  He's  a  pretty  bright  little  rascal,  isn't  he?  We'll 
have  to  send  him  to  college  one  of  these  days  and 
make  a  big  speaker  out  of  him  —  even  if  he  is  a  crip- 
ple." 

"  Even  if  he  is  a  cripple ! "  The  words  rang  out 
as  sharply  now  as  they  had  twelve  years  before.  He 
heard  them  so  distinctly  that  the  inflection  of  the  big 
man's  voice,  thoughtless  and  unmeaning  as  it  had  been, 
made  him  throb  with  the  first  opening  of  the  wound. 
Cripple!  Cripple!  The  words  were  as  the  whistling 
of  knotted  thongs.  Never  before  that  day  had  he 
heard  them  applied  to  him.  Now  they  were  to  be  with 
him  always ;  he  was  powerless  to  forget  them.  They 
had  pushed  him  on  and  on  from  that  time  forward, 
in  a  mad  desire  to  embrace  all  the  learning  within  his 
power  so  as  to  show  the  world  some  day  that  it  was 
not  a  curse  of  God's,  to  be  less  perfect  than  other  men. 


CHAPTER    II 

THE    CAPTAIN'S    ADVICE 

One  day  later  the  young  pioneer  who  had  come 
South  to  make  his  fortune  looked  eagerly  out  upon  a 
distant  view  of  sloping  hills.  The  end  of  his  long 
journey  had  come.  The  little  town,  nestling  at  the 
top  of  the  bluffs,  in  a  setting  of  thick  foliage,  brought 
to  him  a  thrill  of  expectancy.  Everything  lay  before 
him  there,  his  beginning  on  the  long  journey  of  his 
life  work,  his  success  or  failure,  his  happiness  or  his 
sorrow. 

It  was  still  very  early  in  the  morning  and  in  the 
mistiness  of  the  scene,  in  the  shadowy  beauty  of  the 
daybreak,  his  imagination  carried  him  far  into  a  fu- 
ture of  his  own  creating.  The  lazy  curling  smoke  of 
early  morning  fires  rising  from  the  town  became  sym- 
bolic to  him,  the  soft  beauty  of  an  aged  oak  grove, 
festooned  in  grey  moss  and  reflected  in  the  gloomy 
surface  of  the  water  by  the  pale  rose  background  of 
dawning  day  meant  to  him  that  disappointments  and 
vain  strivings  were  to  pass  from  him  forever  now. 
He  was  very  young  and  full  of  expectancy  and  hope, 
and  as  he  threw  back  his  head  and  breathed  deeply, 
the  colour  rushed  into  his  face,  and  his  shoulders 
squared  themselves  unconsciously. 

The  summons  to  breakfast  called  him  away  for  a 
few  minutes,  but  he  was  soon  back  again,  watching 

18 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    ADVICE  19 

each  detail  of  the  scene  as  it  unfolded  before  him, 
impatiently  restless  at  the  slow  movement  of  the  boat. 

Finally  the  boat  rounded  a  point  and  made  directly 
across  the  broad  sweeping  bend  of  the  river  toward 
the  opposite  shore  where  a  settlement  of  houses  at 
the  foot  of  the  bluff  had  suddenly  come  into  view. 

"  Well,  here  we  are."  He  felt  the  grasp  of  the 
captain's  hand  upon  his  arm.  "  How  d'  you  like  the 
looks  of  your  new  home?  You  wait  till  you  get  on 
top  of  the  hill,  though.  Natchez  under  the  hill  and 
on  top  is  a  mighty  different  place.  I'm  going  to  liven 
'em  up  a  bit  this  morning  and  let  'em  know  we're 
coming.  If  these  folks  didn't  see  a  boat  every  now 
and  then,  they'd  think  they  were  dead,  sure."  He 
smiled  good  humouredly  as  a  shrill  whistle  floated 
across  the  water  from  the  town.  "  Bless  me,  if  they 
ain't  got  that  saw  mill  to  working  —  the  first  one 
between  here  and  New  'leans,  I  reckon.  Just  wait 
a  minute,  though,  and  I'll  give  'em  an  answer.  I  told 
the  fireman  to  stuff  the  engine  plumb  full  of  pitch  pine 

—  that'll  give  us  a  powerful  lot  of  black  smoke  — 
and  when  I  turn  loose  on  the  whistle,  watch  out !  " 

The  boat  drifted  a  little  below  the  landing,  then 
turning  slowly,  pushed  its  way  steadily  against  the 
current.  In  the  meantime  the  Captain  had  taken  his 
position  well  forward  where  he  could  view  the  lower 
deck  and  direct  the  landing  of  the  boat.     "  Hi  there 

—  you,"  followed  by  a  collection  of  magnificent  oaths 
as  he  found  a  negro  going  contrary  to  his  directions. 
"  Get  out  there  to  that  capstan  —  man  the  bars  — 
now  —  all  together  —  easy,"  ending  with  more  elo- 
quent oaths  as  the  heavy  coils  of  rope  were  thrown 
to  the  shore,  and  the  stage  planks  shoved  into  place. 


20  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

The  young  traveller  stood  staring  down  into  the 
throng  of  upturned  faces,  realizing  that  out  of  all  the 
number  there  was  not  one  he  had  seen  before  or  from 
whom  he  could  claim  a  welcome.  There  were  bronzed 
faced  woodsmen,  there  were  the  old  residents,  paler 
by  contrast,  and  as  enthusiastic  in  their  welcome  of 
a  boat  that  brought  them  newspapers  and  tidings  of 
the  world,  as  children  expecting  a  new  toy;  there  were 
the  black  shining  faces  of  the  negroes  who  lounged 
on  the  cotton  bales  lining  the  banks;  there  were  In- 
dians in  their  bright  blankets  and  feathers;  here  and 
there  were  dark  skinned  Spaniards;  indeed  it  would 
have  been  difficult  to  find  a  nationality  that  was  not 
represented  in  Natchez  in  those  days. 

Back  of  this  oddly  assorted  throng  extended  high 
piles  of  cotton  bales  waiting  to  be  transported  to 
New  Orleans,  and  beyond  these  a  few  houses  and 
stores,  after  which  the  hill  rose  abruptly  with  a 
winding  road  climbing  to  the  summit.  At  the  top, 
wide  spreading  trees  cut  off  any  view  of  the  upper 
town. 

"  Good  luck  to  you,  my  boy,"  the  old  Captain  said, 
slipping  his  arm  through  the  young  fellow's  as  they 
passed  down  the  stage  plank.  "  I'm  counting  on  hear- 
ing big  things  of  you  one  of  these  days,  and  I  hate 
to  be  disappointed.  Don't  you  forget  my  advice, 
and  remember  —  if  you're  ever  in  a  tight  fix  or 
mixed  up  in  some  sorter  trouble,  you  know  where  to 
come." 

"  Thank  you,  Captain,"  the  young  fellow  answered, 
his  hand  tightening  in  its  hold  upon  the  big  rough  one. 
To  find  such  honest  hearty  friendship  beaming  upon 
him  from  the  old  weather  worn  face  made  him  regret 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    ADVICE  21 

more  keenly  their  parting.  "  But  if  I  take  your 
advice  I'm  afraid  I'll  need  your  help  sooner  than  you 
think." 

The  Captain  gave  way  to  one  of  his  sudden  bursts 
of  noisy  laughter.  "  Never  you  mind  that  —  lad,"  he 
said  with  a  chuckle.  "  What  I  told  you  was  down- 
right common  horse  sense.  I'll  see  you  some  of  these 
days  again,  and  I've  a  sneaking  notion  it  won't  be  so 
far  off."  He  turned  away  hurriedly  and  had  soon 
disappeared  in  the  crowd  of  negroes  that  were  un- 
loading the  boat. 

The  young  fellow  stepped  ashore  and  was  taken 
possession  of  by  a  negro  with  a  beaming  face,  who 
shouldered  his  trunk  and  carpet  bag  without  any  con- 
sultation whatever,  and  led  the  way  toward  a  name- 
less vehicle  standing  in  the  road.  It  was  at  least  some 
satisfaction  to  find  one  who  had  anticipated  his 
wishes,  and  the  newcomer  took  his  seat  in  the  hack 
with  a  sigh  of  relief  and  some  doubts  of  a  suc- 
cessful ascent  of  the  steep  hill  which  loomed  before 
him. 

"  Whar  to,  Boss?  "  came  from  the  eminently  com- 
petent guide  when  he  had  mounted  the  box.  Evi- 
dently he  was  porter,  coachman  and  owner  of  the 
vehicle. 

"  To  the  Mansion  House." 

"  I  knowed  it,"  with  a  shake  of  his  head  and  a 
display  of  fine  white  teeth.  "  All  de  sho'  'nough  white 
folks  goes  dah.  It's  de  place  ob  de  town."  Then 
with  a  dashing  sweep  of  the  whip,  he  set  off  up  the 
hill  at  a  rattling  pace.  Half  way  up  they  came  to  a 
sudden  stop  and  the  driver  turned  round  again. 
"  Boss,"  he  began  in  an  evident  desire  to  be  friendly, 


22  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

"  is  Gin'r'l  Jackson  still  President  ob  de  United 
States?"  His  doubts  settled  on  this  question,  the 
precarious  speed  was  resumed,  the  top  of  the  hill 
reached  and  the  journey  ended  before  a  long  two 
story  building,  proudly  bearing  a  large  sign  on  which 
was  painted  in  red  and  yellow  letters,  "  The  Mansion 
House." 

Two  negro  porters  rushed  forward  from  the  main 
door  that  opened  directly  on  the  pavement,  one  grab- 
bing the  carpet  bag  from  the  vehicle,  the  other  lifting 
the  little  hair  trunk  with  an  ease  that  showed  the 
lightness  of  its  contents. 

The  young  fellow  stopped  a  moment  as  he  stepped 
to  the  pavement  and  glanced  at  his  surroundings. 
The  pavement  before  the  tavern  was  of  brick,  wide 
and  shaded  by  overarching  elms  that  cast  a  thick 
shade,  making  the  place  into  a  sort  of  veranda  for 
the  hostelry.  Tables  and  chairs  were  placed  here,  and 
several  groups  of  men  had  gathered  on  the  pavement 
to  procure  the  papers  that  had  just  been  brought  up 
from  the  boat.  Near  the  main  door  four  men  were 
seated  about  a  table,  one  reading  aloud  from  a  paper, 
interrupted  at  almost  every  other  word  by  the  vehe- 
ment and  noisy  comments  of  his  listeners,  while  an 
agile  waiter  was  supplying  the  party  continually  with 
trays  of  drinks. 

As  the  young  fellow  slowly  made  his  way  toward 
the  door  of  the  hostelry  the  man  who  was  reading 
stopped  suddenly,  laid  down  his  paper,  and  frankly 
stared  at  him.  The  others  followed  the  glance  of  the 
first  so  that  he  was  forced  to  undergo  the  scrutiny  of 
the  entire  crowd  as  he  entered  the  tavern. 

He  instinctively  knew  that  he  was  being  criticized 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    ADVICE  23 

and  commented  upon,  and  stopping  a  moment  inside 
the  door,  he  heard  one  of  them  say  — "  Another 
Yankee  schoolteacher  —  I'll  wager !  If  we  don't  look 
out  we'll  have  nothing  but  Yankee  professors  and 
school  marms  down  here  presently."  Then  followed 
a  burst  of  laughter  and  an  order  for  another  round 
of  juleps. 

The  young  fellow  flushed  hotly.  The  tone  of  the 
man's  voice,  the  implied  insult,  the  utter  contempt 
these  men  felt  for  his  position,  made  him  tingle  with 
a  violent  anger;  then,  with  the  quick  subduing  of  his 
resentment  came  the  thought  of  the  old  captain's  ad- 
vice. A  moment  more  and  he  had  made  a  decision 
that  in  calm  self-possession  would  have  been  utterly 
at  variance  with  his  judgment.  Following  the  cap- 
tain's suggestion  he  walked  writh  considerable  dignity 
across  the  room,  wrote  his  name  across  the  ledger 
with  a  flourish,  ordered  the  best  room  the  tavern 
afforded,  then  asked  to  be  directed  to  the  bar  where 
he  gave  orders  for  a  box  of  cigars  and  a  bottle  of 
champagne  to  be  sent  to  his  room. 

The  first  effect  of  his  action  was  in  the  attention 
of  the  negro  who  had  driven  him  up  from  the  boat 
and  was  now  filling  the  part  of  waiter;  the  fellow 
fairly  danced  before  him  in  his  endeavours  to  antici- 
pate his  wishes.  He  flung  open  the  door  of  the  bed- 
room with  a  superb  flourish  as  if  he  were  admitting 
some  royal  personage,  bowing  obsequiously  as  the 
young  man  passed  in.  When  two  cigars  had  been 
added  to  a  dollar  tip,  the  negro  nearly  lost  his  bal- 
ance in  getting  back  down  stairs  to  impart  his  informa- 
tion to  the  others.  Passing  through  the  barroom  one 
of  the  men  at  the  table  outside  called  to  him. 


24  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

"  Who's  the  limping  Yankee,  Jonas?  " 

"  Mr.  Sargent  Everett,  Boss,  an'  a  sho'  'nough  gen- 
tleman too,  sir." 

"  Schoolteacher,  Jonas  ?  " 

"  Lawdy,  no-o,  Boss,  not  him.  He's  a  gentleman 
of  means  —  he  is.  Ordered  a  bottle  of  champagne 
and  a  box  of  cigars  soon's  he  done  got  in  de  house." 

The  questioner  whistled. 

"  Well  —  that  sounds  pretty  good  for  a  Yankee. 
Let's  ask  him  down,  boys,  what  do  you  say?  Maybe 
he  can  give  us  some  news  from  Washington." 

"  By  all  means ;  let's  have  him  down  and  find  out 
what  he  is,"  the  others  assented. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  young  traveller  was  greeted 
by  his  black  friend  with  the  information  that  Lawyer 
Lemuel  Jervais  presented  his  compliments  and  would 
be  pleased  to  have  Mr.  Sargent  Everett  join  him  and 
his  friends  in  a  round  of  juleps. 

At  first  his  eyes  widened  in  surprise,  then  he  flushed 
with  the  memory  of  his  recent  anger,  finally  ending 
by  throwing  himself  back  in  his  chair  and  laughing 
till  the  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks. 

Meanwhile  Jonas'  eyes  were  moving  with  beaming 
admiration  from  the  face  of  the  stranger  to  the  bottle 
of  champagne  and  back  again. 

"  Boss,"  he  said  finally,  seeing  that  the  newcomer 
showed  no  signs  of  seriousness.  "  Boss,  don't  you 
want  me  to  open  the  wine  for  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  the  young  man  answered,  rising.  "  I'll  let 
you  open  it  for  me  later.  Present  my  compliments  to 
the  gentlemen  and  tell  them  I'll  be  with  them  in  a 
few  minutes." 

As  he  stood  before  the  mirror  of  his  bureau  and 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    ADVICE  25 

adjusted  a  fresh  stock,  he  smiled  at  the  wavering 
reflection  before  him. 

"  Sargent  Everett,"  he  said,  half  aloud.  "  You've 
made  a  first  impression  —  and  —  I'm  very  much  of 
the  opinion  —  that  it  may  prove  an  uncomfortably 
lasting  one." 


CHAPTER    III 

JULEPS   AND    POLITICS 

"  Yes,  gentlemen,  it  is  true  —  the  President  re- 
moved seven  hundred  office  holders  and  appointed  in 
their  places  men  of  his  own  political  beliefs." 

"  Well,  Jefferson  did  the  same  — why  not  Jack- 
son?" 

"  Yes,  but  what  is  his  reason  ?  " 

"  He  claims  the  affairs  of  a  republic  will  be  best 
administered  when  the  officers  hold  the  same  political 
sentiments  as  their  President." 

"  That  may  be,  but  if  we  invest  such  power  in  our 
President  we  might  as  well  not  have  fought  for  our 
liberties  at  all.  Our  fathers  set  us  free  and  now,  by 
Gad,  this  man  wants  to  make  us  all  slaves  again." 

"  That'll  do,  Jervais,  we've  heard  enough  of  your 
theories  for  awhile.  Let  this  gentleman  continue. 
What  is  this  news  about  the  Bank  of  the  United 
States,  Mr.  Everett?" 

Everett  was  sitting  at  the  table  with  his  newly 
made  friends  —  old  friends  now,  since  two  hours  had 
already  passed  in  answering  their  insatiable  store  of 
questions.  They  were  thirsty  for  news,  these  men 
who  were  eight  weeks'  travel  from  the  seat  of  gov- 
ernment in  a  place  where  incidents  happening  two 
months  before,  were  read  about  and  discussed  as  if 
just  taking  place.     It  was  easy  enough  for  Everett 

26 


JULEPS    AND    POLITICS  27 

to  interest  them,  for  one  who  had  just  visited  Wash- 
ington and  listened  to  the  debates  of  the  eloquent 
Colonel  Hayne  with  Daniel  Webster,  the  rising  young 
orator  from  Massachusetts,  was  to  them  a  man  to 
be  respected  and  listened  to.  The  National  Intelli- 
gencer lay  on  the  table  before  them,  neglected  and 
unread,  even  though  it  had  come  on  that  day's  boat, 
for  these  events  of  their  own  country,  narrated  by  a 
young  man  whose  flushed  face  and  glowing  eyes  spoke 
so  eloquently  a  deep  interest  and  grasp  of  his  subject, 
had  an  added  significance  to  the  group  of  men  about 
him.  His  statements  were  interrupted  by  exclama- 
tions, more  often  oaths,  and  once  in  a  heated  argu- 
ment that  took  place  between  two  of  the  listeners  as 
to  the  claims  of  the  Whigs  and  the  Democrats,  the 
whole  crowd  was  compelled  to  separate  the  combat- 
ants and  enforce  silence. 

Everett  studied  the  faces  of  his  companions  as  they 
leaned  on  the  table  and  listened  to  him.  He  found 
in  them  something  he  had  never  seen  in  the  friends 
of  his  youth,  in  the  constrained  countenances  of  the 
more  civilized  New  Englanders.  Here  were  quick 
candour  and  unconsidered  opinions,  condemnation  and 
praise  in  the  same  breath,  sudden  resentment  of  some 
statement  as  if  it  were  a  personal  insult  to  differ  from 
another's  opinion,  and  in  all  of  them  a  certain  art- 
lessness,  the  fresh  vigour  and  enthusiasm  of  a  com- 
munity that  was  still  young  and  still  recklessly  suc- 
cessful. In  these  men  the  young  stranger  found  a 
fascination  that  charmed  him,  he  felt  his  repressed 
sympathy  surge  within  him  and  rush  out  to  meet  the 
cordiality  of  these  new  friends.  He  could  call  them 
his  friends  already,  he  felt  sure,  for  in  their  attitude 


28  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

of  attention  and  interest  he  intuitively  felt  that  they 
liked  him.  He  saw  it  in  the  whimsical  smile  of  the 
lanky  Tennessean  who  with  his  chimney  pot  hat  set 
at  a  rakish  angle  and  his  linsey  waistcoat  unbuttoned 
under  the  stress  of  the  moment,  watched  him  with 
eyes  that  were  keenly  kind;  it  was  in  the  sparkling 
eyes  of  the  dark  little  Creole,  who  met  each  descrip- 
tion of  Washington  with  praises  of  New  Orleans  and 
La  Belle  Teche.  He  saw  it  in  the  intense  interest  of 
two  members  of  the  Legislature,  and  in  the  land 
agent,  and  even  in  the  critical  smile  of  handsome 
debonnaire  Lemuel  Jervais,  the  Beau  of  the  town,  the 
wealthiest  of  all  the  young  "  bloods,"  the  most  prom- 
ising lawyer  admitted  to  the  bar  that  year  —  although 
in  his  nonchalant  indifference  Everett  saw  a  certain 
envy  that  was  flattering. 

"  About  the  United  States  Bank  charter,"  Everett 
continued,  in  answer  to  the  last  question,  "  they  say 
Mr.  Jackson  claims  it  is  unconstitutional  and  inex- 
pedient. He  recommends  that  the  old  charter  be  al- 
lowed to  expire  by  its  own  limitation." 

"  And  when  will  that  be?  " 

"  In  '36.  It  is  whispered  that  he  hopes  to  distribute 
the  surplus  which  has  accumulated  among  State 
banks." 

M  He  can't  do  it,  I'm  sure.  There  is  no  warrant  of 
law  for  such  an  act." 

"  Did  you  ever  know  Andrew  Jackson  to  wait  for 
anything  when  his  mind  was  made  up !  " 

"  You  didn't  finish  about  the  revenues  at  Charleston 
—  were  they  collected  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  the  President  wouldn't  hear  to  the  de- 
bate of  Hayne  and  Webster.     He  took  matters  into 


JULEPS   AND    POLITICS  20 

his  own  hands  and  issued  a  proclamation  denying  the 
right  of  any  state  to  nullify  the  laws  of  Congress." 

"  There  they  go  again,  making  us  into  a  worse 
monarchy  than  we've  just  thrown  off.  In  ten  years 
we  won't  have  any  rights.  I  suppose  if  Andrew  Jack- 
son took  a  notion,  he'd  abolish  slavery.  But  if  he 
does,  do  you  know  what  we'll  do  down  here  ?  "  Jer- 
vais'  voice  thundered  out  irritably,  and  he  struck  the 
table  with  his  fist.     "  We'll  secede." 

For  a  second  the  questions  stopped,  and  in  the 
silence  Everett  saw  that  a  subject  had  been  mentioned 
that  threw  a  sullen  anger  over  the  entire  group. 

"  So  Charleston  had  to  back  down,  did  she ! " 
drawled  Mr.  Suggs. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  you'd  call  it  backing  down 
or  not,  but  when  Scott  reached  there  with  his  troops 
and  a  man-of-war,  the  nullifying  party  had  disap- 
peared." 

"  Hmp !  "  grunted  the  Tennessean,  "  I  reckon  I'll 
have  to  go  up  to  the  Hermitage  and  see  Andy,  he's 
getting  to  be  such  a  big  bug  now-a-days." 

"  He  won't  know  you  any  longer,  Suggs  —  better 
not  go.  And  the  Indians,  Mr.  Everett,  how  about 
them  ?  " 

Everett  went  into  a  long  discussion  of  the  forma- 
tion of  the  Indian  Territory  which  was  being  urged 
by  Andrew  Jackson  as  a  solution  of  the  Indian  prob- 
lem. 

All  the  while  Jervais  was  sitting  with  his  chair 
tilted  back  against  the  wall,  listening  with  supercilious 
indifference. 

"How  does  it  happen,  Mr.  Everett?"  he  said  at 
last,  looking  into  the  face  of  the  newcomer  with  a 


30  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

directness  that  spoke  the  doubt  beneath  his  question. 
"  How  does  it  happen  that  you  tell  us  nothing  of  this 
anti-slavery  agitation  that  comes  rumoured  from  Bos- 
ton? You  say  you  are  from  that  country  —  so,  of 
course,  you  oppose  slavery  too.  Have  you  come  down 
here  to  sow  seeds  of  abolition  ?  " 

Everett  met  the  eyes  of  his  questioner  squarely,  and 
realized  for  the  first  time  that  this  was  the  man  who 
had  made  the  slurring  remark  as  he  entered  the  tav- 
ern. For  a  few  moments  he  considered  his  answer, 
knowing  well  that  the  impression  he  had  made  upon 
these  men  would  be  instantly  annulled  by  the  wrong 
words.  Any  personal  prejudice  on  the  subject  which 
he  might  have  acquired  from  the  sentiments  already 
spreading  in  the  North  he  immediately  put  aside. 

"  I  think  that  question,"  he  answered  slowly,  meet- 
ing the  intense  look  of  each  man  in  the  crowd,  "  should 
be  settled  by  the  people  who  are  slave  owners.  I  am 
not  —  so  I  know  nothing  of  the  subject." 

A  burst  of  applause  came  from  the  crowd,  followed 
by  each  fellow  extending  a  hand  to  Everett  and  in- 
sisting upon  his  taking  another  julep. 

"  If  they'd  all  do  that  way  and  mind  their  own 
business  it'd  be  a  whole  lot  better,"  drawled  Mr. 
Suggs.  "  You  ain't  like  Miss  Prudence  Varnum  that 
came  down  here  from  Salem  last  year  —  and  I'm 
certainly  glad  of  it.  She  gave  out  she'd  come  here 
to  teach  school,  but  we  soon  found  out  it  wasn't  that. 
By  Jingo,  she'd  come  down  here  to  write  a  book  on 
the  sins  of  slavery.  We  all  didn't  want  the  likes  of 
her  in  town  and  we  all  just  fixed  a  way  to  get  her 
back  home  where  she  belonged.  I  just  goes  to  her 
one  day  and  tells  her  I'd  heard  she  was  writing  a  book, 


JULEPS    AND    POLITICS  31 

and  that  I  could  tell  her  a  damn  sight  more  about 
slavery  than  any  fellow  in  town  —  if  she  wanted  to 
hear  it.  She  said  she  wasn't  writing  any  book  at  all, 
but  if  I  had  a  mind  to  tell  her  she  had  no  objections 
to  listening.  You  can  bet  I  laid  it  on  heavy.  I  lied 
as  fast  as  a  dog  can  trot,  and  the  whiter  her  face  got 
the  more  I'd  lie.  You  can  bet  I  made  up  a  good  tale 
about  the  way  I  had  spent  the  last  Sunday  down  on 
old  Seth  Burton's  plantation.  Says  I,  *  Miss  Pru- 
dence, it  certainly  was  blood  curdling,  and  you  sure 
want  to  put  it  in  your  book.  But  somehow,  I  kinder 
hate  to  tell  you  about  it.'  Says  she,  '  Oh,  Mr.  Suggs, 
please  do.  You  don't  know  how  it  will  help  me  to 
know  the  real  state  of  this  corrupt  country.'  Then  I 
told  her  that  we  had  run  out  of  amusement,  and  just 
to  liven  up  things,  Seth  had  a  big  nigger  tied  to  a 
tree  and  rammed  a  powder  horn  down  his  throat. 
*  Then,  madam,'  says  I,  '  he  put  a  slow  match  to  the 
powder  while  the  rest  of  us  stood  off  and  bet  whether 
the  nigger's  head  would  be  blown  clean  off  or  just 
half  way.'  That  went  pretty  hard  on  her,  but  I  was 
bent  on  giving  her  her  fill,  so  I  went  right  on  and 
told  her  that  when  they  had  too  many  nigger  babies 
on  old  Seth's  plantation  he'd  have  them  brought  to 
town  in  a  cotton  basket  and  sold  by  the  dozen,  and  if 
they  didn't  sell  them  all,  he  had  what  was  left  thrown 
in  the  river.  I  got  up  to  leave  after  my  last  little 
piece  of  information,  for  I  saw  I'd  have  a  fainting 
woman  on  my  hands  if  I  didn't.  But,  bless  you,  she 
called  me  back  when  I'd  reached  the  door,  and  said, 
'  Mr.  Suggs,  you  have  opened  my  eyes.  I  had  no 
idea  it  was  such  a  wicked  town.  It  almost  makes  me 
wonder  what  they  would  do  to  any  one  who  expressed 


32  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

her  disapproval  of  slavery.'  l  Well,  ma'm,'  says  I,  '  I 
never  heard  tell  of  but  one  woman  who  expressed  her 
opposition  to  the  matter,  and  considering  the  repu- 
tation of  this  town,  I  can't  say  they  treated  her  so 
badly.  They  only  tarred  and  feathered  her,  and  rode 
her  on  a  rail  for  a  few  squares.'  She  left  town  on 
the  first  boat  up  the  river,  believing  every  word  I'd 
told  her,  and  I  reckon  she's  lecturing  right  now  on 
the  information  I  gave  her.  But  that's  the  way  we 
handle  'em  down  here,  if  we  don't  like  'em,  and  it's 
a  tip  to  you,  sir,  because  you  appear  to  be  the  best 
Yankee  we've  seen  down  this  way.  Hello,  there's  the 
stage  from  Jackson." 

The  loud  fan-fare  of  a  horn  broke  upon  the  mid 
day  drowsiness  of  the  town.  In  a  few  minutes  the 
pavement  before  the  tavern  was  crowded.  From 
every  direction  people  came  running  to  get  a  close 
view  of  the  day's  arrival.  A  row  of  negro  waiters 
lined  up  before  the  tavern  door,  an  array  that  went 
far  to  impress  the  provincial  voyageur  as  to  the  im- 
portance of  the  hostelry.  Some  Indians  gathered  in 
a  silently  observing  group,  and  in  a  brick  store  across 
the  street  clerks  and  customers  stood  in  the  front  door 
—  for  this  was  the  terminus  of  the  forty  mile  coach 
trip  from  Jackson,  and  the  event  of  the  day  that  broke 
the  monotony  of  existence. 

In  a  cloud  of  dust  the  coach  finally  made  its  appear- 
ance, a  great  lumbering  car,  swung  on  leather  straps, 
and  tilting  from  side  to  side,  as  the  six  lathered  horses 
were  urged  into  a  final  gallop  by  means  of  a  cracking 
whip,  loud  blasts  of  the  horn,  and  an  impressive  han- 
dling of  the  reins  which  the  driver  managed  in  mag- 
nificent style. 


JULEPS    AND    POLITICS  33 

The  group  about  the  table,  interrupted  in  their 
political  discussions,  wheeled  about  in  their  chairs, 
and  though  the  block  where  the  coach  was  to  pull  up 
was  only  a  few  paces  directly  before  them,  Jervais  had 
already  risen  and  detached  himself  from  the  others. 

"  Expecting  some  one,  Jervais  ?  "  Mr.  Suggs  called 
after  him,  at  the  same  time  winking  at  the  rest  of 
the  group. 

Jervais  flushed  and  turned  back  for  a  moment. 

"  Yes,  Mistress  Brandon  is  returning  from  Coop- 
er's Well  to-day.,, 

Everett  started  and  half  rose  from  his  chair. 

"Mistress  James  Brandon?"  he  asked  quickly. 

"  Yes,"  Jervais  answered,  looking  at  him  with  the 
hauteur  that  was  his  marked  characteristic.  "  Do  you 
know  her  ?  " 

"  No  —  at  least  I  mean  only  through  letters.  I 
have  come  down  here  to  be  a  tutor  for  her  children." 

Before  he  had  finished  speaking  the  coach  was  at 
the  block,  and  Jervais  had  rushed  forward,  to  see  that 
the  ladder  was  placed  firmly  in  the  door. 

The  first  passenger  to  appear  was  a  tall  woman, 
enveloped  in  a  voluminous  linen  duster,  her  features 
almost  obscured  beneath  a  green  barege  veil.  Jervais 
assisted  her  to  alight  with  elaborate  courtesy,  and 
then  turned  to  lift  out  two  boys  and  a  little  girl. 

The  girl,  when  she  stepped  down  to  the  pavement, 
evidently  disdaining  the  proffered  help  of  Jervais, 
looked  about  her  in  apparent  search  for  some  friend. 
As  her  glance  travelled  from  one  face  to  another,  it 
rested  for  a  moment  on  Everett,  half  questioning, 
then  quickly  shifted  to  the  others.  In  the  second  that 
their  eyes  met  Everett  got  a  vivid  impression  of  her 


34  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

oddly  beautiful  face  —  thin,  and  very  dark,  with  in- 
tense grey  eyes  that  contrasted  almost  weirdly  with 
her  black  hair.  In  the  deep  shadow  of  a  projecting 
poke  bonnet  her  eyes  seemed  almost  too  large  for  the 
delicate  contour  of  her  face,  and  as  she  turned  away, 
he  noticed  that  she  wore  her  hair  in  two  long  plaits. 

Suddenly  she  uttered  a  quick  cry  of  pleasure  as  she 
saw  an  old  man  coming  towards  her  out  of  the  crowd, 
and  after  rushing  forward  to  kiss  him  they  both 
turned  towards  a  carriage  which  had  just  stopped 
near  the  pavement. 

"  So  they  are  to  be  my  first  pupils,"  Everett  said 
half  aloud,  and  smiling  as  he  watched  the  party  drive 
off. 

Mr.  Suggs,  sitting  next  to  him,  heard  the  words 
and  saw  the  smile.  "  And  a  nice  job  you'll  have,  too," 
he  said  in  a  confidential  whisper.  "  That  little  gal, 
you  saw  her,  didn't  you?  She's  Natalia  Brandon  and 
a  whole  school  in  herself,  if  what  I  hear  going  around 
is  so.  But  she  ought  to  be  kinder  interesting  too, 
she's  got  enough  history  back  of  her.  You  know,  her 
mother,"  Suggs  edged  his  chair  closer  to  Everett  and 
lowered  his  voice,  "  it's  whispered  hereabouts,  was  a 
daughter  of  Gayosa.  Of  course,  I  don't  want  you  to 
say  it  as  coming  from  me,  but  there's  a  lot  of  folks 
think  it,  just  the  same." 

"Mistress  Brandon,"  Everett  exclaimed,  "that's 
impossible!     I  know  her  relatives  in  Boston." 

"  Oh  no  —  not  Mistress  Brandon.  She's  the  gal's 
stepmother.     Brandon  was  married  twice." 

Everett  looked  in  the  direction  the  party  had  gone 
Their  carriage  had  already  disappeared  down  the 
street. 


JULEPS    AND    POLITICS  35 

"  And  the  old  gentleman  who  met  her,"  he  asked, 
"  who  was  he  ?  " 

"  Shh !    Here  he  comes  with  Jervais  now." 

Suggs  rose  as  the  two  men  came  towards  the  table 
and  held  out  his  hand  to  the  older  man  with  the  un- 
mistakable signs  of  feeling  a  certain  importance  in 
the  occasion. 

"  Mighty  glad  you  come  over  here,  Judge,"  he  ex- 
claimed in  tones  patently  unctuous.  "  We've  got 
something  brand  new  in  town  to-day  —  a  Yankee 
that's  not  an  abolitionist." 


CHAPTER    IV 

A   GENTLEMAN    OF   THE   OLD   SCHOOL 

As  Everett  rose  to  respond  to  the  introduction  of 
the  newcomer,  "  Judge  Houston,"  as  Suggs  explained 
with  a  flourish,  "  a  Virginian,  living  in  Mississippi, 
but  still  breathing  the  air  of  Virginia,"  he  felt  intui- 
tively that  he  was  standing  before  a  man  it  would 
be  an  honour  to  know.  In  that  moment  the  impres- 
sion the  others  had  made  upon  him  became  cheap  and 
vulgar,  for  in  the  quiet  strong  face  of  this  man  who 
was  evidently  past  sixty  there  was  a  benignity  and 
gentleness,  an  intelligence  made  up  not  only  of  clever- 
ness and  book  learning,  but  of  a  long  life's  experience 
in  which  sorrow  and  thought  and  difficulties  overcome 
had  brought  a  result  near  to  perfection.  He  was  a 
tall  man,  with  broad  heavy  shoulders  that  were  finally 
admitting  the  long  struggle  in  a  slight  stoop ;  his  face 
was  strong,  yet  mild ;  his  mouth  firm  with  the  stabil- 
ity of  largeness  and  generosity.  His  head,  with  its 
high  forehead,  heavy  eyebrows,  and  prominence  in 
the  region  that  denotes  intelligence,  would  have  con- 
veyed an  impression  of  cold  intellectuality,  had  it  not 
been  for  the  mellowing  expression  that  shone  from 
his  clear  blue  eyes  —  a  look  that  spoke  without  effort 
kindness  and  sympathy  and  friendliness  toward  the 
world.  Beneath  the  force  of  his  personality  one  felt 
something  more  potent   than   strength  —  perhaps   it 

36 


THE    OLD    SCHOOL  37 

was  the  strength  of  sweetness.  His  carriage  was  dig- 
nified, yet  natural;  aristocratic  yet  gentle;  and  his 
graciousness  softened  the  somewhat  formal  manner 
of  the  Colonial  days  which  still  clung  to  him.  He 
wore  the  old  fashioned  fair  top  boots  and  shorts  of 
that  elder  day,  a  shirt  of  fine  ruffled  linen,  a  waistcoat 
of  the  finest  embroidered  silk,  and  his  hair,  iron  grey 
and  thick,  was  roached  back  from  the  noble  forehead 
and  hung  down  in  a  queue  behind,  tied  with  a  black 
silk  ribbon  —  a  fashion  already  passing  with  the  mem- 
ories of  the  Revolution.  He  was  close  shaven  and 
neat  to  a  nicety,  with  the  exception  of  some  grains 
of  snuff  which  fell  occasionally  from  the  massive  gold 
snuff  box  that  hung  from  a. chain  about  his  collar. 

When  he  had  taken  his  seat  at  the  table,  and  was 
mixing  with  an  expression  of  pleasurable  anticipation 
the  toddy  the  waiter  had  brought  him,  he  looked  at 
Everett  with  a  curiosity  that  quickly  became  flatter- 
ing interest.  The  young  fellow's  eyes  fell  before  the 
searching  gaze  of  the  older  man  for  in  them  he  imag- 
ined he  saw  a  faint  surprise  at  the  company  he  had 
chosen  upon  his  arrival.  It  was  then  that  he  regretted 
for  the  first  time  the  wounded  pride  which  had  made 
him  descend  to  the  use  of  the  Captain's  advice. 

The  conversation  changed  from  the  arguing,  tem- 
pestuous channel  in  which  it  had  been  running,  and 
with  the  new  influence  that  was  felt  by  everyone,  be- 
came more  conservative  and  dignified. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  told  them  everything,"  the  old 
man  said  to  Everett  when  the  tavern  bell  had  re- 
minded the  group  that  it  was  their  dinner  hour.  "  Did 
you  ever  see  fellows  so  hungry  for  news  ?  "  he  added, 
as  Jervais,  the  last  to  leave,  had  moved  away.    "  But 


38  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

you  must  remember  we  are  a  long  way  off  from  the 
world  down  here." 

"  I  was  hardly  aware  myself  that  so  much  had  hap- 
pened until  I  began  to  tell  them  all  I  knew,"  Everett 
answered,  happy  to  find  himself  alone  with  Judge 
Houston.  "  I  believe  I  told  them  everything  I  have 
read  and  heard  for  months,  and  yet,"  he  stopped  sud- 
denly and  looked  up  to  see  if  any  of  them  remained, 
"  do  you  know,  I  forgot  to  tell  them  that  King  George 
was  dead  and  that  the  Duke  of  Clarence  is  now  Will- 
iam the  Fourth!  " 

"  They  will  see  it  in  the  papers,"  the  old  man  an- 
swered smiling,  "  I  am  sure  you  have  told  them  enough 
for  one  day.  I  am  the  one  who  missed  it  all.  Will 
you  do  me  the  honour  of  going  home  to  dinner  with 
me  ?  It  would  give  me  much  pleasure  to  hear  all  about 
the  world  from  one  who  is  so  recently  from  the  scene 
of  action.  Perhaps,  too,  I  can  show  my  appreciation 
by  giving  you  something  better  than  the  corn  dodgers 
and  goat  meat  that  you  would  surely  get  in  this  tav- 
ern." 

Everett  kept  his  eyes  on  the  old  man's  as  he  rose 
from  his  chair  in  accepting  the  invitation.  The  sur- 
prise and  pity  which  people  always  showed  on  first 
noting  his  deformity  had  made  him  morbidly  sensitive 
and  watchful,  and  when  he  saw  no  change  of  expres- 
sion on  the  face  of  this  old  gentleman  of  Virginia 
that  gave  evidence  that  he  had  noticed  his  lameness, 
a  feeling  of  great  joy,  almost  love,  rushed  over  him 
for  the  other ;  though,  in  the  slow  pace  at  which  they 
walked  and  his  frequent  halts  to  call  attention  to  some 
important  object  along  the  way,  Everett  knew  that  in 
this  lay  a  veiled  consideration. 


THE    OLD    SCHOOL  39 

The  street  was  broad  and  cool  in  the  shade  of  over- 
arching trees,  and  as  they  strolled  along,  Judge  Hous- 
ton's arm  resting  on  his,  and  his  deep  voice  steady 
and  full  of  the  charm  of  provincial  accent,  Everett 
began  to  feel  more  and  more  contented  with  the  call 
which  had  brought  him  to  this  place. 

"  That  old  church  —  yes  —  it  was  built  by  the 
Spaniards,"  the  old  man  leaned  against  a  fence  for 
a  moment.  "  And  even  I  can  remember  when  crim- 
inals used  it  as  a  place  of  safety  —  a  sanctuary.  I 
saw  a  murderer  run  up  those  steps  and  put  his  finger 
in  the  key  hole  of  that  same  old  door  and  keep  his 
pursuers  at  bay.  A  queer  old  custom  —  but  it  has 
been  years  ago  now.  And  their  old  priest,  Father 
Brady,  they  called  him  —  he  was  my  ideal  when  I  was 
a  boy,"  he  talked  on  as  they  resumed  their  walk.  "  He 
had  great  power  over  the  Indians  —  used  to  get  out 
among  them  and  cowhide  them  into  his  church.  And 
when  it  came  to  hunting  he  was  the  best  shot  in  the 
town,  and  the  best  judge  of  horses  and  liquor  —  had 
a  wink  and  a  joke  and  a  blessing  and  an  alms  for 
every  one.  Oh,  I  can  tell  you  all  the  stories  you 
want  to  know  about  Natchez ;  some  of  them  are  grew- 
some  and  some  fantastic  —  but  they  are  being  for- 
gotten now  with  the  changes  everywhere.  We  are 
getting  civilized  by  degrees  down  here.  Wife  said 
the  other  day  she  had  no  intention  of  dying  till  she 
saw  a  steam  car  coming  right  into  our  town." 

He  ended  with  a  smile  as  they  stopped  before  a 
house  set  far  back  in  a  grove  of  trees.  Walking  be- 
side him  up  the  broad  brick  pavement,  bordered  on 
each  side  by  high  box,  Everett  realized  that  he  was 
standing  before  the  typically  Southern  home,  with  its 


40  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

fagade  of  massive  white  columns,  its  wide  green  blinds 
against  the  red  bricks,  and  its  broad,  hospitable  ve- 
randas. 

When  he  stood  in  the  cool  shade  of  the  hall,  the 
glare  of  the  brilliant  day  shut  out,  the  old  gentleman's 
wife  came  forward  to  meet  them.  Looking  down 
into  her  gentle  sweet  face  Everett  found  himself  won- 
dering if  Judge  Houston  and  the  grey  haired  gentle 
woman  could  not  be  some  kin  —  for  the  long  life 
together,  the  practice  of  the  same  pursuits,  the  indul- 
gence, or  more  the  renunciation  of  similar  tastes  had 
wrought  a  likeness  between  them  which  made  the 
wife  seem  but  a  more  delicate  feminine  edition  of  the 
man. 

"You  see  the  resemblance,  Maria?"  Judge  Hous- 
ton said  to  his  wife,  when  the  introduction  was  over. 

"  Oh  yes,  indeed  —  I  saw  it  at  once,"  she  mur- 
mured in  a  low  voice,  and  Everett  thought  he  saw 
tears  in  her  eyes  as  she  turned  quickly  away.  "  I  shall 
tell  Cynthie  to  have  dinner  at  once.  I  know  you  have 
been  starving.    Think  of  it  —  on  a  boat  for  a  month !  " 

Everett  turned  back  to  Judge  Houston  as  they  were 
left  alone  and  found  the  old  gentleman  smiling  upon 
him  with  the  same  sad  expression  he  had  found  in 
Mrs.  Houston's  eyes. 

"  I  seem  to  remind  you  of  someone,"  he  said  slowly 
hesitating  in  the  doubt  of  intruding  upon  what  was 
evidently  their  sorrow. 

"  Yes  —  your  resemblance  to  my  son  is  very  stri- 
king. He  went  out  into  the  Western  territories  with 
some  pioneers  when  he  was  just  about  your  age.  He 
was  unlucky  —  the  Indians  —  it  is  a  long  story  — 
I  shall  tell  it  to  you  one  of  these  days."     The  old 


THE    OLD    SCHOOL  41 

gentleman  pulled  forward  a  chair  and  waved  Everett 
towards  one  beside  him.  "  And  you  are  going  to 
Mistress  Brandon's  ?  "  he  added,  evidently  wishing  to 
change  the  subject. 

"Yes,"  Everett  answered.  "  I  shall  be  glad  to  have 
you  tell  me  something  about  her  and  her  family  for 
I  practically  know  nothing.  My  chum  at  college, 
Morgan  Talbot,  is  a  kinsman  of  Mistress  Brandon 
and  he  carried  on  the  correspondence  with  her  about 
me.  She  is  taking  me  entirely  on  his  recommendation, 
and  I'm  sure,"  he  laughed,  "  she  can't  know  Morgan 
well,  or  she  wouldn't  take  a  recommendation  from 
a  person  who  lets  his  heart  rule  his  brain  as  Morgan 
does.  It  was  entirely  his  friendship  for  me  that  made 
him  do  it." 

"  You  must  remember  that  when  we  get  down  here 
we  don't  have  many  opportunities  to  see  relatives  who 
live  so  far  away  as  Boston.  Mistress  Brandon  is  a 
very  capable  and  well  educated  woman.  She  has 
superintended  the  management  of  the  plantation  ever 
since  Brandon  died  and  has  done  it  remarkably  well; 
indeed,  she  is  the  wealthiest  woman  in  this  part  of 
the  state.  There  are  three  children.  The  eldest  is 
not  her  child  —  she  is  a  daughter  of  Brandon's  first 
wife." 

Just  then  Mrs.  Houston  reappeared  to  ask  them 
into  dinner. 

"  I  see  you  are  already  gossiping,"  she  said,  when 
they  were  seated  in  the  high  ceilinged  dining  room, 
made  cool  and  free  from  flies  by  a  large  wooden  fan 
hung  from  the  ceiling  above  the  table  and  kept  in 
continual  motion  by  a  little  negro  who  stood  in  one 
corner  of  the  room  and  dozed  as  he  automatically 


42  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

pulled  the  cord.  "  I've  always  told  Judge  Houston 
that  it  is  an  erroneous  idea  that  women  do  the  gossip- 
ing," she  continued  in  her  gentle,  drawling  voice,  "  I 
assure  you,  Mr.  Everett,  everything  I  know,  I  find 
out  from  him,"  with  a  charming  glance  of  accusation 
at  her  husband,  "  after  his  visits  to  the  Mansion 
House." 

"  But  my  news  is  political,  Maria,"  expostulated 
Judge  Houston.     "  And  that  isn't  gossiping." 

"  Indeed  —  so  you  call  arguing  whether  Mistress 
Brandon  will  accept  Mr.  Jervais  or  not,  a  political 
discussion !  " 

"  I  never  told  you  that,  my  dear,"  the  old  man 
smiled  gently. 

"  No  —  of  course  you  didn't,  but  some  one  else's 
husband  told  his  wife  and  she  told  me."  With  which 
remark  Mrs.  Houston  turned  back  to  Everett.  "  You 
will  be  delighted  with  your  new  friends,"  pouring  the 
coffee  from  an  enormous  silver  urn.  "  To  begin  with, 
the  place  itself  is  beautiful.  It  was  built  by  one  of 
the  Spanish  governors  and  the  romances  connected 
with  it  are  thrilling  —  but  you  will  hear  them  all. 
Natalia  will  tell  them  to  you." 

"  There  she  goes,"  laughed  Judge  Houston. 
"  There  won't  be  a  thing  left  for  you  to  find  out  for 
yourself,  Mr.  Everett.  Maria,  my  dear,  do  leave 
something  to  the  gentleman's  imagination." 

"  Well,  I  only  thought  it  wise  for  Mr.  Everett  to 
know  something  about  them,"  she  responded  on  the 
defensive.     "  Don't  you  think  so,  Mr.  Everett?" 

"  Indeed  I  do,  Mrs.  Houston.  It  might  help  me 
to  avoid  any  embarrassing  subjects,"  he  laughed  hap- 
pily, the  hospitality  and  friendliness  of  this  old  fash- 


THE    OLD    SCHOOL  43 

ioned  couple  making  him  feel  more  at  home  in  the 
midst  of  their  good  natured  banter. 

"  Embarrassing  subjects !  There  you  are  quite 
right,  Mr.  Everett.  For  instance,  Felix,"  with  a  con- 
ciliatory look  toward  her  husband,  "  you  know  it 
would  not  do  for  him  to  ask  much  about  the  Span- 
iards, would  it?  You  see,  Mr.  Everett,  the  mother 
of  Natalia  —  that  is  the  girl's  name  —  was  a  Span- 
iard. Please  don't  think  I'm  gossiping  now,  but  you'll 
understand  I'm  telling  you  this  for  your  own  benefit. 
The  Spanish  rule  ended  here  about  the  time  we  came, 
so  we  don't  pretend  to  know  what  the  truth  of  the 
matter  is.  Suffice  it  to  say,  however,  that  Natalia's 
grandmother  seems  to  have  been  criticized  for  her 
rather  unconventional  way  of  living.  It  was  during 
her  lifetime  that  the  house  was  built,  and  from  what 
I  gather  there  was  no  lack  of  entertainment  at  all 
times.  Her  daughter,  a  beautiful,  shy  little  creature, 
as  delicate  and  sensitive  as  a  flower,  was  fortunately 
sent  to  New  Orleans  to  be  educated  and  escaped  the 
surroundings  and  influence  of  her  mother.  Brandon 
married  her  soon  after  her  mother  died,  and  as  she 
had  inherited  this  property  here,  they  came  back  to 
Natchez  to  live.  She  was  the  most  fascinating  crea- 
ture I  ever  knew,  although  that  was  not  well  —  indeed, 
no  one  knew  her  well,  and  I  often  heard  it  said  that 
she  died  insane  shortly  after  Natalia's  birth  —  some 
more  coffee,  Cynthie  —  but  you  can't  believe  every- 
thing you  hear.  I  believe  she  just  died  as  naturally 
as  anyone  else.  Do  have  some  more  Sally  Lunn  — 
Cynthie,  bring  some  hot  rolls.  Tell  me,  Mr.  Everett, 
is  it  really  true  that  you  have  pie  for  breakfast  in  New 
England?" 


44  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

"  I  was  just  wondering  what  my  mother  would  say 
to  such  extravagance  as  four  kinds  of  hot  bread 
at  one  meal.  And  as  for  pie,"  Everett  laughed, 
u  I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to  admit  I  have  eaten  it  for 
breakfast.  Hot  rolls  are  a  Sunday  attraction  at 
home." 

"  I  suppose  we  do  strike  a  Northerner  as  extrav- 
agant," Mrs.  Houston  sighed  helplessly,  "  but  when 
one  has  so  many  slaves  standing  around,  they  must 
be  kept  busy.  If  I  had  to  cook  myself  I  don't  sup- 
pose you  would  have  had  anything  for  dinner  but 
baker's  bread  and  fig  preserves.  You  don't  have  slaves 
in  Maine,  either,  do  you?" 

Everett  met  Judge  Houston's  eye  and  smiled. 

"  No,"  the  old  gentleman  answered  for  him,  "  the 
Yankees  imported  them  and  found  them  unadapted 
to  their  climate,  so  they  sent  them  down  here  and 
sold  them  to  us.  Now,  I  understand,  they  have  de- 
cided they  do  not  approve  of  slavery.  Are  you  all 
that  clever,  Mr.  Everett,"  he  ended  with  a  good  hu- 
moured laugh. 

"  I  have  not  read  much  on  the  subject,"  Everett 
answered,  realizing  that  beneath  the  laughter  there 
lay  a  deep  seriousness.  "  But  from  what  I  have  heard 
and  from  the  reports  of  the  Maryland  Society,  I  had 
gotten  the  impression  that  many  of  the  Southerners 
were  in  favour  of  emancipation." 

"  A  great  many  are  —  in  fact,  some  have  gone  so 
far  as  to  give  their  slaves  freedom.  A  man  who  died 
here  last  year,  by  his  will,  emancipated  his  slaves  — 
there  were  nearly  one  hundred  of  them  —  and  he  also 
provided  for  their  transportation  to  Africa  with  a  full 
supply  of  agricultural  implements  and  medicine  and 


THE    OLD    SCHOOL  45 

a  year's  provisions.  It  was  a  very  good  example  he 
set,  and  one  I  hope  will  be  imitated." 

"  Then  you  believe  in  emancipation  ?  " 

"  I  am  in  favour  of  emancipation  with  colonization. 
That  is  the  only  way  it  is  possible.  You  can't  allow 
slaves  to  be  liberated  and  remain  in  the  States,  for 
in  such  a  case  the  effect  of  an  intermediate  class  be- 
tween owners  and  slaves  would  be  disastrous.  The 
negroes  must  be  either  sent  out  of  the  country  or 
remain  slaves.  There  is  no  half  way  ground  to  be 
considered." 

"  From  what  you  say,  Judge  Houston,"  Everett 
said,  in  the  slight  pause  that  followed,  "  I  find  myself 
wondering  if  you  are  a  slave  owner." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  plead  guilty,  but  in  a  very  small  way. 
We  have  five  slaves,  and  I  venture  to  say  they  wouldn't 
leave  us  if  they  could.    Do  you  think  so,  Maria?  " 

Before  answering,  Mrs.  Houston  called  the  pleasant 
faced  negro  woman  to  her,  "  Cynthie,  go  upstairs," 
she  said,  an  evident  ruse  to  get  the  woman  out  of  the 
room,  "  and  bring  me  a  —  pocket  handkerchief.  I 
wanted  to  tell  you  about  her,"  she  continued  when 
they  were  alone.  "  I  asked  her  once  what  she  would 
do  if  I  set  her  free.  Will  you  believe  me?  —  she  cried 
for  a  week  and  begged  me  every  hour  of  the  day 
please  not  to  do  it.  You  see,  Mr.  Everett,  they  feel 
they  are  a  part  of  the  family  —  and  so  they  are.  We 
take  care  of  them  just  like  they  were  children.  Of 
course,  we  hear  of  cases  where  they  are  badly  treated, 
but  it  is  quite  unusual." 

"  Yes,"  Judge  Houston  added,  "  if  people  would 
only  stop  to  consider  that  it  is  to  a  man's  interest  to 
treat  his  slaves  well,  in  order  that  they  may  do  their 


46  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

work,  probably  they  would  soon  see  the  fallacy  of  the 
exaggerated  tales  that  are  causing  so  much  ill  feeling 
in  the  North.,, 

"  Now,  here  you  all  have  been  discussing  this  ever- 
lasting slave  question,"  Mrs.  Houston  said,  as  they 
finally  rose  from  the  table,  "  and  all  the  time  I  have 
been  wondering  to  myself  over  a  very  different  matter. 
Can  either  of  you  guess  what  it  is  ?  " 

"  The  wonderings  of  a  woman's  mind  are  quite  be- 
yond us,  eh,  Mr.  Everett?"  said  Judge  Houston. 

"  I  shall  have  to  admit  my  failure  this  time,"  Ever- 
ett smiled  at  Mrs.  Houston. 

"  Well,"  she  continued,  half  seriously,  "  I  was  try- 
ing to  calculate  how  long  it  will  take  you  to  tame 
Natalia." 

Everett  flushed  slightly  and  did  not  attempt  to  hide 
the  surprise  he  felt  at  the  remark. 

"  Ah,  there  you  go  with  your  woman's  eternal  spec- 
ulation on  some  ridiculous  topic."  Judge  Houston 
frowned  in  mock  disapproval.  "  Here  you  take  a 
young  fellow,  and  before  he  has  ever  seen  the  child 
you  put  all  sorts  of  ideas  into  his  head  about  her." 

"  Nevertheless,  I  notice  the  young  man  is  embar- 
rassed," Mrs.  Houston  continued  in  evident  enjoy- 
ment of  Everett's  increasing  confusion.  "  It  appears 
to  me  that  perhaps  he  has  seen  our  little  girl  already. 
Have  you,  Mr.  Everett?  " 

Everett  glanced  at  Judge  Houston,  smiling,  then 
back  at  the  kind  old  lady  who  was  bent  on  teasing 
him. 

"  Someone  pointed  out  Mistress  Brandon  and  her 
children  to  me  as  they  got  out  of  the  coach  to-day," 
he  answered  finally. 


THE    OLD    SCHOOL  47 

"  And  there  was  a  little  girl,  the  daughter?  "  Mrs. 
Houston  insisted. 

"  Yes,  I  think  there  was  a  little  girl." 

"  Hm'm,  I  knew  it.  Was  she  about  twelve  years 
old  and  very  pretty,  with  black  hair  and  grey  eyes  ?  " 
Yes  —  I  believe  her  eyes  were  grey  —  since  you 
mention  it." 

"  Since  I  mention  it !  "  Mrs.  Houston  laughed  eas- 
ily. "  Seems  to  me  you're  mighty  indifferent  about 
your  pupil."  Then  seriously,  u  She's  a  great  pet  of 
ours  and  I  want  you  to  be  kind  to  her.  She's  a  hand- 
ful, everyone  says,  but  Felix  and  I  love  her  dearly. 
And  indeed,  I  can't  see  how  anyone  keeps  from  it. 
Some  people  find  her  rather  strange  at  first,  and  I 
must  admit  she  is  wilful,  but  after  you  know  her  a 
while  you'll  understand  her.  That  is  what  I  want 
you  to  do  if  you  are  to  teach  her  —  understand  her 
and  sympathize  with  her  and  be  very  good  to  her. 
Remember  she  has  neither  father  nor  mother." 
She  laid  her  hand  almost  beseechingly,  on  Everett's 
arm. 

"  You  may  trust  me  to  do  that,"  Everett  smiled 
into  her  kind  eyes.  "  You  see,  she  will  be  my  first 
pupil,  and,  of  course,  I  shall  take  pride  in  making  her 
reflect  credit  upon  me." 

"  That  may  be  a  little  difficult.  She  never  would 
study  except  what  she  wanted  to,  but  perhaps  you  may 
exert  a  good  influence  over  her  in  that  direction." 
She  glanced  at  Everett  intently  as  if  reading  him  and 
ended,  "  I'm  half  a  mind  to  think  you  will,  too." 

Everett  and  Judge  Houston  strolled  through  the 
cool,  darkened  hall,  and  back  to  the  front  veranda, 
where  large  red  rocking  chairs  and  palmetto  fans  were 


48  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

invitingly  awaiting  them.  As  they  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment, looking  out  toward  the  street,  a  wagon  came 
into  view,  piled  high  with  bales  of  cotton  and  pulled 
by  six  oxen. 

"  There  is  some  cotton  from  the  Brandon  place," 
Judge  Houston  said  to  Everett.  "  Would  you  like 
to  see  it  closer?  You  can  tell  it  by  the  marks  on  the 
bales." 

They  walked  down  to  the  gate  and  watched  the 
heavy  load  pass  down  the  street  on  its  way  to  the 
distant  country  from  which  Everett  had  come. 

"  This  will  be  the  greatest  country  in  the  world 
some  day,"  the  old  gentleman  said  when  they  were 
back  on  the  veranda  and  had  settled  themselves  in 
the  comfortable  chairs.  "  All  we  need  is  more  capital, 
more  people  and  more  facilities  for  transportation. 
But  tell  me  about  yourself  now  —  your  plans  —  and 
what  you  hope  to  do." 

"  You've  probably  heard  it  from  many  a  young 
fellow  before,"  Everett  answered,  looking  responsively 
into  the  face  turned  with  kindly  interest  toward  him. 
"  I  have  chosen  law  as  my  profession.  It  has  always 
been  my  desire  since  the  time  I  found  a  long  illness 
had  left  me  unfit  for  any  great  physical  work.  My 
father  was  a  sea  captain  and  could  never  understand 
this  choice  of  mine  —  a  queer  notion,  as  he  called  it. 
But  I'm  going  on  with  it  and  make  a  success  of  it, 
if  hard  work  and  hope  will  do  it.  I  had  some  little 
success  with  oratory  at  college,  but  what  I  need  now 
is  the  opportunity  to  read  law  and  prepare  to  be  ad- 
mitted to  the  bar.  There  seemed  no  good  opportunity 
for  me  in  New  England,  everything  there  is  so 
crowded,  and  the  chance  to  teach  in  Mrs.  Brandon's 


THE    OLD    SCHOOL  49 

family  seemed  the  best  thing  for  me  to  do.  It  will 
give  me  leisure  to  study,  and  then,  Morgan  Talbot 
tells  me  her  library  is  very  large." 

"  It  is  magnificent.  Brandon  had  case  after  case 
of  books  shipped  to  him  from  England  —  those  that 
he  could  not  get  from  New  York.  The  library  got  so 
large  that  he  had  to  build  a  special  room  for  it.  But 
to  go  back  to  yourself  —  how  much  law  do  you  know  ? 
I  saw  this  morning  in  your  talk  with  those  fellows 
that  you  were  able  to  grapple  with  the  mazes  of  pol- 
itics. But  the  point  for  you  now  is  to  get  a  solid 
foundation  of  details.  Do  you  think  you  could  get 
in  study  enough  this  winter  to  pass  examinations  next 
spring?  " 

With  the  minutes  slipping  by  they  talked  on,  some- 
times Everett  unbosoming  himself  to  the  kind  old  gen- 
tleman as  he  had  never  done  before,  sometimes  the 
old  man  telling  him  of  the  needs  and  greater  demands 
of  the  bar  of  the  Southwest,  pointing  out  to  him  lines 
of  study  and  books  that  would  be  more  useful  to  him 
in  the  special  characteristics  of  the  law  in  that  country. 

In  his  low  modulated  voice  he  told  the  young  fel- 
low starting  out  on  the  life  journey  things  that  were 
to  come  back  to  him  many  years  later.  Afterwards 
Sargent  Everett  often  recalled  his  words  about  success 
when  he  was  feeling  its  empty  sting :  "  The  path  of 
the  successful  man  is  not  strewn  with  flowers.  Fail- 
ure and  disappointment  are  the  walls  that,  when  once 
passed,  become  golden  experiences.  Success  judged 
by  the  outside  world  and  felt  by  the  one  who  has  suc- 
ceeded are  two  very  different  things  —  sometimes, 
perhaps  most  often,  the  success  seen  by  the  world  is 
the  least  of  all  successes.     What  one  strives  for  and 


50  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

yearns  for  and  so  rarely  accomplishes  is  a  thing  that 
others  are  unaware  of  —  a  thing  too  sacred  to  be 
spoken." 

Everett  sat  spell  bound  under  the  influence  of  the 
Judge's  words.  In  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  voice,  an 
inflection  which  had  in  it  a  delightful  bit  of  provin- 
cialism, he  found  a  charm  that  was  persuasive  and 
forceful. 

When  the  town  clock,  a  block  away,  chimed  three, 
he  rose  reluctantly  with  a  sigh  that  spoke  frankly  his 
regret  at  leaving. 

"  I  wish  I  might  spend  the  remainder  of  the  after- 
noon with  you,"  he  said,  his  hand  clasping  the  old 
gentleman's.  "  But  my  journey  is  not  quite  finished, 
yet.  I  shall  go  out  to  Mistress  Brandon's  now  and 
meet  her  and  see  if  I  am  acceptable." 

"  Tell  her  I  approve,"  Judge  Houston  laid  his  hand 
on  Everett's  shoulder.  "  And  if  I'm  not  very  much 
mistaken  it  may  have  some  weight.  Tell  her  we 
became  good  friends  in  one  day." 

Everett  pressed  the  old  gentleman's  hand  warmly. 

"  Good  friends !  "  he  replied,  "  you  are  already 
more  than  that  to  me.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  known  you 
always  —  that  I  had  some  right  to  expect  all  this  kind- 
ness from  you." 

The  old  man's  eyes  met  his  affectionately. 

"  You  have  —  I've  told  you.    It's  the  resemblance." 


CHAPTER   V 

THE    HOUSE    OF    THE    SPANIARDS 

An  hour  later  Everett  was  riding  out  of  the  town 
on  his  way  to  Mrs.  Brandon's  home.  About  him  on 
all  sides  the  scene  was  bathed  in  the  splendour  of  late 
afternoon  sunlight.  A  heavy  stake-and-rider  fence 
bordered  the  road,  and  beyond  it  stretched  the  wide, 
sweeping  cotton  fields  —  snow  white  with  their  un- 
picked product.  He  drew  in  the  reins,  resting  his 
horse,  while  he  marvelled  at  the  tall  plants,  almost 
as  tall  as  himself,  and  the  strange  effect  of  the  spotless 
cotton  against  the  distant  border  of  forest.  Across 
the  fields  came  to  him  the  sound  of  voices  chanting  — 
sweet  with  harmony,  and  looking  in  the  direction  from 
which  it  came,  he  saw  bright  turbaned  negro  women 
and  stalwart  men  moving  steadily  through  the  rows 
of  plants,  picking  the  cotton  and  dragging  huge  bas- 
kets after  them. 

Turning  from  the  high  road  two  miles  south  of 
the  town,  he  rode  down  a  narrow  roadway  on  both 
sides  of  which  giant  cottonwood  trees  towered,  and 
where  spreading  cypresses,  their  long  branches  fes- 
tooned with  grey  moss,  cast  a  cooling  shade. 

At  the  end  of  the  narrow  road  a  gateway  loomed, 
a  large  massive  piece  of  iron  grill  work  swung  be- 
tween two  columns  of  brick  and  cement.  Beyond 
these  columns,   the   fence   extended,   elaborately   de- 

61 


52  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

signed  iron  pickets  bound  together  with  a  tracery  of 
grapes  and  leaves,  before  which  a  hedge  of  Cherokee 
roses  grew,  its  thorny  branches  accentuating  the  effect 
of  security  and  aloofness  from  the  world. 

Everett  stopped  before  the  gate  and  looked  beyond, 
into  the  depths  of  a  magnolia  grove  which  seemed  a 
continuance  of  the  wood  he  had  just  passed  through, 
so  filled  was  it  with  the  sprawling  shadows  of  the 
thick  foliage  and  the  golden  spots  of  sifting  sunlight. 
He  was  so  lost  in  his  first  impressions  of  the  place, 
its  stillness,  its  old-world  charm,  its  fairylike  mystery, 
that  he  started  abruptly  when  he  saw  a  little  girl  sit- 
ting at  the  foot  of  one  of  the  gate  posts,  surveying  him 
through  gently  questioning  eyes.  Her  feet  were 
crossed  under  her,  as  she  leaned  comfortably  against 
the  post,  and  in  her  lap  she  held  a  large,  heavy  book, 
one  finger  still  upon  the  page  from  which  her  gaze 
had  wandered. 

Everett  met  her  eyes  in  silence  for  a  moment,  look- 
ing down  at  her  thin  little  face,  flushed  from  the  rose 
glow  of  the  setting  sun,  and  feeling  in  a  flash  the 
vividness  of  her  odd  beauty.  Her  brow  was  very 
white  and  delicate  and  her  blue-black  glossy  hair, 
parted  in  the  middle  and  brushed  back  to  where  it 
was  braided,  made  her  seem  paler  than  she  really 
was,  for  her  skin  was  a  rich  olive.  Everett  forgot 
the  beautiful  colouring,  the  almost  weird  thinness  of 
her  slight  figure,  the  sweet  half  questioning  mouth  — 
all  these  were  lost  sight  of  when  he  had  seen  her 
eyes.  They  were  so  strange  in  all  they  represented 
that  he  was  lost  in  admiration  and  wonder  —  for  in 
them,  although  childlike  still  in  their  innocence  — 
was  tenderness,  sympathy,  wilfulness  and  humour  — 


HOUSE    OF   THE   SPANIARDS      53 

all  of  these,  and  more  striking  still,  an  intentness  that 
kept  changing  them  from  grey  to  black  and  back 
again. 

She  broke  the  silence  that  Everett  had  forgotten 
about.  "  Are  you  the  schoolmaster/'  her  voice  was 
high  and  fresh  and  liquid,  "  from  Maine  ?  " 

Then  Everett  took  off  his  hat  and  bowed  low,  smi- 
ling down  upon  her. 

"  I'm  so  —  so  glad,"  she  sighed,  as  if  the  burden 
of  the  world  had  fallen  from  her  shoulders.  Then 
she  closed  the  book  with  a  snap.  "  I've  been  waiting 
here  hours  to  see  what  you  looked  like." 

Everett  laughed  outright. 

"  If  I  had  known  you  were  waiting  I  should  have 
come  sooner.  I  did  not  know  Mrs.  Brandon  knew 
that  I  had  arrived." 

"  Oh  yes  —  Mr.  Jervais  told  her." 

"  Then  I  can  see  her  now  ?  " 

She  met  his  look  for  a  second  —  then  glanced  down 
at  her  book. 

"  She's  riding  over  the  place  now,  but  she  told  me 
to  tell  you  to  wait  for  her.  You  can  tie  your  horse 
there,"  indicating  a  ring  imbedded  in  the  gate  post, 
"  then  we  can  go  to  the  house." 

Sargent  followed  her  through  the  gate  and  along 
the  driveway  which  extended  under  the  magnolia 
trees.  The  gloom  of  the  grove  was  intense,  the  black 
green  leaves  shutting  out  the  sky  entirely  and  making 
the  ground  beneath  dank,  where  a  pale  green  moss 
grew  in  lieu  of  a  lawn.  Through  the  vista  of  trees, 
glowing  bright  against  the  eternal  twilight  of  the 
grove,  the  house  came  into  their  vision,  gleaming  like 
some  palace  in  an  enchanted  wood. 


54  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

Sargent  stopped  when  they  had  gone  a  little  further, 
and  looked  at  the  house.  The  little  girl  stopped,  too, 
close  beside  him,  and  watched  his  expression  intently. 

From  their  position  only  the  front  of  the  house 
was  visible,  a  stretch  of  plain,  cemented  columns  that 
rose  from  a  pavement  of  deep  red  flags,  level  with  the 
ground,  to  the  red  tiled  roof,  two  stories  high.  Back 
of  the  columns,  the  lower  rooms  extended  out  from 
the  upper  floor,  in  this  way  forming  a  balcony  to  the 
entire  second  floor,  which  was  enclosed  in  an  iron 
balustrade.  From  this  balcony  two  flights  of  stone 
steps,  semi-circular  in  form,  and  iron-railed,  led  down 
to  the  pavement  below,  and  in  the  opening  formed 
by  these  steps  was  the  wide  front  door.  It  was  an 
odd  conception  of  architecture  and  gave  the  house  a 
strange,  foreign  aspect,  accentuated  by  the  more  fa- 
miliar appearance  of  the  second  floor,  with  its  wide 
windows  and  dark  green  shutters. 

Sargent  had  forgotten  the  little  girl  beside  him, 
lost  in  admiration  of  the  strange  old  house,  when  he 
felt  a  cold  hand  slipped  into  his,  and  looking  down, 
found  her  glowing  eyes  gazing  timidly  up  at  him. 

"You  like  it?"  she  questioned  quickly. 

"  It  is  the  most  beautiful  place  I  have  ever  seen!  " 

She  smiled  contentedly,  her  hand  still  in  his. 

"  It's  mine  —  when  I  get  grown  up.  If  you  hadn't 
liked  it  —  I'd  have  hated  you  just  like  I  did  Miss 
Hampton  who  was  our  governess  last  year." 

Sargent  felt  her  hand  clench  in  his  and  saw  her 
eyes  grow  dark.  Giving  a  tug  at  the  book  she  car- 
ried, to  get  it  more  comfortably  under  her  arm,  she 
started  on  again. 

"  Did  you  hate  her  so,"  Sargent  said,  glancing  at 


HOUSE    OF   THE    SPANIARDS      55 

the  book  she  held  in  her  hand,  "  because  she  made  you 
study  such  a  big  book  as  that?  " 

"This? — ■  Oh  no,  I  love  to  read  this  —  only  I 
don't  understand  it  all.  I  just  hated  her  because  she 
said  this  was  a  lonesome  old  place,  and  I  didn't  like 
for  her  to  say  that,  for  the  Spaniards  built  this  house 
and  my  mother  was  Spanish  —  so  am  I."  Then  sud- 
denly, "  Are  you  going  to  teach  me  the  three  R's  ? 
Uncle  Felix  calls  it  that,"  smiling  again.  "  Isn't  it 
funny,  because  I  know  they  don't  begin  with  an  R," 
putting  her  hand  in  Sargent's  once  more.  "  Won't 
you  please  leave  out  the  'Rithmetic?  " 

Sargent  laughed  down  at  her. 

"  Arithmetic  —  of  course  not.  We  all  have  to 
learn  that." 

"  I'm  so  —  so  sorry." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  hate  it !  " 

"  Perhaps  I  may  be  able  to  help  you  like  it." 

"  No,"  positively,  "  you  *won't.  It's  so  stupid  and 
dry.  I  want  you  to  teach  me  how  to  spell,  that  both- 
ers me  so;  and  I  want  to  learn  how  to  say  Shake- 
speare's plays." 

M  Shakespeare !  "  Sargent  exclaimed.  "  How  old 
are  you,  " 

"  I'm  going  on  twelve." 

"  And  what  do  you  like  best  of  Master  Shake- 
peare's  ?  " 

"  I  like  the  story  about  Orlando  and  Rosalind. 
Shall  I  say  some  of  it  for  you?  Let's  go  over  there 
by  the  bench  and  you  can  hear  me  say  it  right  now." 

She  tripped  ahead  of  Sargent  along  a  path  that 
led  from  the  drive,  suddenly  going  slower  when  she 


56  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

saw  that  he  could  not  follow  her  so  rapidly.  A  little 
way  down  the  path  they  came  to  the  edge  of  the  grove, 
where  an  iron  bench  was  placed  beneath  one  of  the 
great  trees,  making  an  ideal  place  where  one  could 
sit  in  shady  protection  and  gaze  out  upon  a  scene  so 
dramatic  in  its  breadth  and  majesty. 

Far  down  the  sloping  hill  the  river  swept  along, 
the  low  country  across  the  mile-wide  current  mys- 
tically dozing  in  the  golden  light  of  the  advancing 
evening.  In  the  restfulness  of  the  twilight,  when  all 
Nature  had  sunk  into  a  gentleness  and  mistiness,  when 
the  light  was  softening  and  objects  which  had  been 
sharply  outlined  were  imperceptibly  growing  unreal, 
it  became  a  scene  made  up  of  dreams  and  fancies. 

Sargent  sank  on  the  bench,  under  the  influence  of 
the  scene  and  its  resemblance  to  the  one  he  had  left 
so  far  behind  him.  A  doubt  of  ever  seeing  the  place 
he  called  home  rushed  over  him,  bringing  with  it  the 
first  deep  pang  of  home-sickness.  Why  had  he  come 
so  far  from  home  ?    Was  it  really  for  his  good  ? 

All  the  while  the  little  girl  was  hastily  turning  the 
pages  of  the  book,  searching  for  the  lines  she  wanted. 
At  last,  finding  what  she  sought,  she  ran  over  them, 
her  lips  moving  inaudibly  with  the  words.  Finally 
her  finger  marking  the  lines,  she  handed  the  book  to 
Sargent  and  stood  erect  before  him. 

"  Now,"  she  said,  "  will  you  hear  them?  "  looking 
at  him  shyly,  for  she  had  been  quick  to  see  the  wistful 
look  in  his  eyes. 

He  met  her  look,  smiling  encouragingly,  as  she 
clasped  her  hands  behind  her  and  riveted  her  gaze 
on  the  trees  for  better  concentration.  Then  she  spoke 
the  lines  in  a  quick,  excited  voice : 


HOUSE    OF   THE    SPANIARDS      57 

"  And  this  our  life,  exempt  from  public  haunt, 
Finds  tongues  in  trees,  books  in  running  brooks, 
Sermons  in  stones,  and  good  in  everything." 

Sargent  waited  until  she  had  finished,  then  closed 
the  book  slowly,  repeating  the  lines  after  her.  She 
listened  intently,  her  eyes  growing  deeper  as  she  came 
nearer  to  him. 

"  Say  it  again,  please,"  she  almost  whispered,  sit- 
ting down  on  the  bench  beside  him  and  slipping  her 
hand  through  his  arm.  "  It  is  so  beautiful  when  you 
say  it.  I  know  I'm  going  to  like  you  —  your  voice 
is  so  —  so  sweet !  " 

Sargent  turned  toward  her  and  clasped  her  little 
hand  in  his  own. 

"  Who  told  you  to  learn  those  lines  ?  "  he  asked, 
after  a  moment's  silence. 

"  Uncle  Felix.  He  says  they  always  make  him  think 
of  this  place.  Mammy  Dicey  says  Mamma  used  to 
call  this  '  The  Garden  of  Shadows.'  " 

"  The  Garden  of  Shadows,"  Sargent  repeated. 
"  What  a  beautiful  name ;  but  it's  rather  sad,  don't 
you  think?  " 

"  Mammy  Dicey  says  Mamma  was  always  sad." 

"  And  don't  you  remember  her  yourself?  " 

The  little  head  moved  from  side  to  side  and  a  wist- 
ful expression  crept  into  her  eyes.  "  No  —  I  don't 
remember  her  —  I  was  too  little,  I  s'pose.  Sometimes, 
though,  when  there's  nobody  in  the  house,  I  go  and 
sit  in  the  parlour  and  look  at  her  picture  and  play 
like  I'm  talking  to  her.  Mammy  Dicey  says  she  was 
beautiful  —  her  picture  is." 

Sargent  looked  down  at  her  tenderly.  Something 
in  the  plaintive  notes  in  her  voice  appealed  to  him 


58  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

strangely.  Her  vivid  little  face,  with  the  deep  ex- 
pression of  her  eyes,  drew  him  toward  her  with  the 
instinctive  feeling  that  in  some  way  they  were  to  be 
very  close  together  in  the  years  that  were  to  come. 
The  beautiful  surroundings,  with  their  old-world 
charm,  and  aloofness  from  the  world,  seemed  a  part 
of  the  child;  unconsciously  he  felt  that  she  was  the 
expression  of  all  that  it  had  stood  for  —  of  all  its 
strange  beauty. 

"  You  are  like  your  mother  —  aren't  you  ?  "  he 
said,  his  look  still  upon  her. 

She  turned  away  quickly  and  looked  straight  be- 
fore her.  "  Father  used  to  say  so  —  that  is  why  he 
named  me  '  Natalia  '  —  for  her.  Now,  please  don't 
call  me  '  Natalia '  like  so  many  people  do.  It's 
Nataaya  —  that's  the  way  my  mother  said  it  — 
that's  the  Spanish  pronunciation." 

"  Very  well,  then,  I  shall  call  you  Nataaya," 
Sargent  repeated  after  her.  "  You  seem  to  know 
a  great  deal  about  your  mother,  not  to  remember 
her.  Does  Mrs.  Brandon  talk  to  you  so  much  about 
her?" 

Natalia  looked  up,  startled. 

"  No  —  she  never  talks  to  me  about  my  mother. 
Aunt  Maria  —  that's  Mrs.  Houston  —  she's  told  me 
lots  about  her,  but  Mammy  Dicey  tells  me  most." 

"  Who  is  Mammy  Dicey?  " 

"  Mammy  Dicey's  my  Mamma's  slave.  She  al- 
ways lived  with  Mamma  ever  since  before  Mamma 
was  born,  and  now  she  belongs  to  me.  She  tells  me 
all  about  the  time  when  Mamma  was  a  little  girl  just 
like  me,"  her  face  lit  up  wonderfully  with  her  evident 
love  of  the  subject,  "  and  she  tells  me  all  the  time 


HOUSE    OF    THE    SPANIARDS      59 

about  the  trips  she  and  Mamma  used  to  take  to  New 
Orleans,  and  the  years  they  spent  in  the  Convent  down 
there,  and  of  the  long,  long  trip  they  once  took  to  the 
old  country.  Mammy  says  they  didn't  see  anything 
but  water  for  months  and  months.  I  wish  so  —  so 
much  I  could  take  a  trip  like  that  with  Mammy. 
Then,  sometimes,  on  cold  winter  nights  when  we  sit 
in  the  kitchen  and  Mammy  can  see  pictures  in  the 
fire,  I  get  her  to  tell  me  about  the  times  Mamma  used 
to  walk  here,  in  the  Garden  of  Shadows,  and  cry  all 
the  time  because  Father  had  gone  to  fight  the  Indians. 
I'll  get  her  to  tell  you  sometime,  only  you  mustn't 
laugh  at  me  when  I  cry."  She  stopped,  out  of  breath 
with  the  rush  of  words. 

"  Why  do  you  cry,  Natalia  ?  "  Sargent  asked  gently, 
when  she  had  rested  a  moment  in  silence. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,  except,"  and  the  tears  were 
already  in  her  eyes.  "  I  can't  help  wishing  she  was 
living  when  I  get  very,  very  lonesome." 

"  And  is  that  so  often  in  this  lovely  place?  " 

"  No  —  not  so  much.  It's  just  when  I  get  mad 
with  James  and  Bushnell,  and  Mammy's  busy,  and 
I'm  all  by  myself  —  like  I  was  this  evening.  I  s'pose 
every  little  girl  gets  that  way  when  she  hasn't  got  a 
Mamma.     Have  you  got  one?" 

Sargent  put  his  arm  around  her  and  drew  the  frail 
little  figure  close  to  him.  When  she  had  rested  her 
chin  against  his  arm,  and  he  could  feel  the  quick  beat- 
ing of  her  heart,  he  leaned  over  and  kissed  the  heavy 
waves  of  her  hair. 

"  Yes,  I  have  a  mother,"  he  answered,  almost  in 
a  whisper,  "  but  she  is  nearly  as  far  away  from  me 
as  yours  is.     Indeed,  I  believe  she  is  farther  —  for 


60  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

you  have  everything  here  that  was  your  mother's,  and 
that  is  a  great  deal." 

For  a  little  while  Natalia  was  silent,  then  she  mur- 
mured without  looking  up,  "  Is  she  beautiful  like  mine 
—  and  do  you  love  her  very  much  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  she  is  very  pretty,  I  think,"  he  said  in 
answer  to  her  last  question,  "  and  I  am  like  her,  too, 
just  as  you  are  like  your  mother." 

"  It's  lucky  for  a  man,  Mammy  says  —  but  it's 
terribly  unlucky  for  a  girl."  She  sat  up  suddenly  and 
faced  Everett.  "  Do  you  believe  I'm  going  to  be  un- 
happy because  I  look  like  Mamma?  " 

"Of  course  you'll  not  be  unhappy.  To  be  as  pretty 
as  your  mother  must  have  been  should  make  you  very 
lucky,  I  think." 

Natalia  smiled  contentedly,  and  the  colour  rushed 
into  her  face,  a  deep  claret  colour  that  glowed  sub- 
dued beneath  her  smooth  skin  and  faded  away  into 
the  exquisite  slenderness  of  her  throat. 

"  Tell  me  about  your  mamma,  please." 

Through  her  question  Everett  was  again  looking 
far  away  to  a  place  where  he  knew  the  ones  he  loved 
were  gathered,  perhaps  at  that  very  moment.  He 
could  see  it  so  distinctly,  that  almost  unconsciously, 
he  began  to  talk  about  it  to  the  little  girl  beside  him, 
as  if  it  were  all  there  before  him. 

M  My  home,  Natalia,  was  way  up  on  a  hill  where 
we  could  look  down  upon  the  town  and  out  into  the 
bay  where  there  are  so  many  little  islands  —  one  for 
each  day  in  the  year,  they  say  —  and  way  beyond  those 
islands  was  the  great  Atlantic  Ocean.  In  front  of  our 
house  was  an  apple  orchard;  did  you  ever  see  one? 
It  is  the  most  beautiful  thing  in  the  world.    And  in  the 


HOUSE    OF   THE   SPANIARDS      61 

spring  and  summer  my  mother  used  to  always  make 
me  sit  beside  her  out  there,  and  study  my  lessons,  and 
when  I  would  get  tired,  she  would  close  the  books 
and  tell  me  stories  of  great  heroes  —  making  them 
more  real  to  me  by  telling  me  they  inhabited  those 
islands  before  us.  .  .  .  When  I  was  a  little  fellow 
of  ten  I  was  very  ill.  The  doctor  said  I  was  going 
to  die,  but  my  mother  said  I  should  not!  And  one 
night  when  there  was  a  terrible  storm,  and  the  ships 
could  not  come  into  port,  she  went  out  on  to  the  cliff 
where  there  was  nothing  but  snow  and  ice,  and  where 
the  surf  dashed  up  and  froze  on  everything  —  she 
went  out  all  by  herself  and  prayed  to  God  to  spare 
my  life,  and  promised  Him  if  I  lived  she  would  rear 
me  into  a  fine  man,  who  would  do  good  in  the  world 
and  be  a  great  help  to  people  who  had  forgotten 
who  God  was.  .  .  .  My  father  came  home  on  his 
ship  that  night,  and  when  they  told  him  my  mother 
had  gone  out  into  the  storm,  he  went  out  and  found 
her  lying  unconscious  in  the  snow.  When  he  brought 
her  back  into  the  room  where  I  lay  dying,  a  great 
change  came  over  me  at  once.  I  got  well ;  all  except 
my  leg ;  it  kept  shrinking  so  I  can  never  use  it  again. 
...  So  when  my  father  found  he  couldn't  make  a 
sailor  of  me,  like  himself,  he  got  angry  with  me  and 
called  me  the  little  cripple.  He  didn't  know  how  that 
hurt  me,  and  once,  when  my  little  sister  died,  and  my 
mother  got  a  letter  from  him,  he  thought  she  said 
it  was  I  who  had  died,  and  he  wrote  her  it  was  a 
fortunate  thing,  as  I  could  never  have  been  an  honour 
to  them.  ...  It  was  then  that  my  mother  denied  her- 
self that  I  should  go  to  school  and  have  all  the  advan- 
tages of  an  education.    It  was  hard  on  her  and  on  the 


62  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

others  —  for  we  were  very  poor,  but  she  would  hear 
to  nothing  else  but  that  I  should  learn  all  that  was 
in  my  power.  .  .  .  And  the  day  I  left  her,  Natalia, 
to  come  down  here,  I  told  her  good-bye  in  the  orchard, 
and  as  I  went  down  to  the  ship  I  could  still  see  her 
standing  there,  waving  to  me.  Even  when  the  ship 
was  out  to  sea,  I  imagined  I  could  still  see  her  there, 
and  I  swore  to  myself  that  day  that  the  next  time  she 
stood  there  and  looked  for  me,  I  should  be  coming 
back  to  her  a  great  man !  " 

The  sun  was  half  gone  before  the  far  horizon,  the 
grove  of  magnolias  had  grown  black  in  the  dusk,  and 
a  multitude  of  birds  were  fluttering  in  the  protecting 
foliage,  whispering  good-nights  to  each  other.  A 
delicious  breeze  swept  up  from  the  bosom  of  the  river, 
cooling  the  parched  earth,  and  bringing  with  it  the 
promise  of  a  refreshing  evening. 

Finally  Everett  rose  from  the  bench.  "  So  we 
should  be  very  good  friends,  Natalia,"  he  said  as  she 
walked  beside  him,  still  silent  from  her  sympathetic 
listening,  "  for  we  are  both  without  the  one  we  love 
best  in  the  world.  Will  you  see  now  if  Mistress  Bran- 
don has  returned  ?  It  is  growing  late,  and  I  must  get 
back  to  town  to-night." 

In  the  distance  the  sound  of  the  gate  opening  and 
the  crunch  of  hoofs  on  the  driveway  made  Sargent 
look  toward  the  house.  A  woman  on  horseback  was 
riding  up  to  the  door,  followed  by  two  men,  who 
rode  a  little  behind  her. 

"  That's  Mamma  Brandon  now,"  Natalia  cried, 
"  and  her  overseers.  She's  been  going  over  the  plan- 
tation with  them,  getting  ready  for  the  cotton  pick- 
ing."    She  walked  a  little  ahead  of  Sargent,  so  that 


HOUSE    OF    THE   SPANIARDS      63 

she  reached  Mrs.  Brandon's  side  just  as  she  dis- 
mounted on  the  block  before  the  door. 

"  He's  come,"  she  cried  breathlessly.  "  The  school- 
master !    And  I  like  him  so  much !  " 

Mrs.  Brandon  threw  her  reins  to  a  negro,  and 
looked  quickly  at  Sargent  as  he  came  toward  her. 

"  You  are  Mr.  Everett,"  she  said,  extending  her 
gloved  hand.  "  Morgan  wrote  me  that  you  would 
probably  reach  here  this  month.  Will  you  come  in- 
side?" 

She  turned  away  and  walked  into  the  house,  leav- 
ing Sargent,  who  followed  closely,  with  an  impression 
of  a  tall,  fair  woman,  with  steady,  cold  blue  eyes  and 
a  determined  mouth.  In  the  first  moment  of  greeting 
he  had  seen  her  utter  lack  of  sympathy  with  the  old 
house.  In  a  flash  the  thought  that  had  come  to  him 
in  the  garden,  returned  —  the  child  was  the  rightful 
owner. 

"  If  you  will  excuse  me  for  a  few  minutes,"  she 
continued,  when  they  were  within  the  hall.  "  I  have 
been  overlooking  the  places  this  afternoon.  After  a 
month's  absence  it  was  quite  necessary.  Natalia,  take 
Mr.  Everett  into  the  parlour.  I  shall  be  there  in  a 
few  moments." 

In  the  gloom  of  the  interior  of  the  house  Sargent 
could  distinguish  very  little  until  his  eyes  had  grown 
accustomed  to  the  subdued  light. 

The  hall  was  spacious,  with  a  brick  floor  over  which 
were  thrown  squares  of  carpet,  and  on  the  walls,  which 
were  of  the  same  cement  as  the  exterior,  hung  a  re- 
markable collection  of  portraits.  Tier  after  tier  they 
rose  to  the  ceiling,  all  of  them  in  massive  gilt  frames 
that  glistened  against  the  white  walls  and  increased 


64  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

the  effect  of  a  ghostly  multitude  looking  down  upon 
the  intruder. 

Following  Natalia  into  a  large  salon  which  opened 
into  this  hall,  Sargent  found  himself  in  a  vast  room 
of  mirrors,  with  furniture  shrouded  in  linen  covers 
and  a  polished  mahogany  floor  that  repeated  all  the 
furnishings. 

When  they  were  alone  again,  Natalia  stood  directly 
before  Sargent,  her  face  peering  up  at  him  through 
the  misty  light. 

"  I'm  going  to  call  James  and  Bushnell  to  meet 
you,"  she  said,  "  and  they're  going  to  be  so  glad  when 
I  tell  them  you're  not  one  bit  like  Mr.  Jervais  said 
you  were."  She  smiled  happily.  "  He  said  you  were 
a  regular  old  Yankee  schoolmaster  —  and  a  crippled 
one  at  that  1  Oh !  "  she  cried,  seeing  the  quick  flash 
of  pain  in  Sargent's  face  —  it  was  the  thrust  that 
always  made  him  flinch  —  "I  didn't  mean  to  hurt 
you !  "  Her  eyes  darkened  suddenly  and  the  tears 
rushed  down  her  cheeks.  "  Now  you  won't  like  me 
at  all  —  I'm  so  —  so  sorry !  "  Then  she  ran  weeping 
out  of  the  room. 

So  it  was  that  Sargent  Everett's  long  journey  from 
Maine  to  Mississippi  in  those  old  days  came  to  an 
end.  Sitting  in  his  room  that  night  at  the  tavern, 
writing  home  by  the  light  of  a  single  candle,  he  held 
his  quill  poised  above  the  paper,  while  the  faces  of 
the  day  rushed  in  procession  before  him.  The  wrin- 
kled, weather-beaten  face  of  the  steamboat  captain; 
the  kind,  noble  features  of  the  Virginia  gentleman; 
the  calm,  placid  face  of  the  chatelaine  of  the  old  Span- 
ish home;   and  last  of  all,  the  haunting  grey  eyes  of 


HOUSE    OF   THE    SPANIARDS      65 

the  little  girl.  In  each  of  them  he  found  something 
that  made  him  realize  they  would  help  in  the  moulding 
of  his  future.  His  first  step  had  been  made.  What 
would  the  unknown  bring  to  him  ?  His  head  sank  on 
his  arms  and  the  words  of  the  far  away  one  rang  in 
his  ears,  urging  him  on  and  on  to  success. 

A  light  tap  sounded  on  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  he  called  out,  and  the  shining  face  of 
Jonas  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"  Boss,  I  jes'  cum  ter  fin'  out  ef  yer  didn'  want 
hit  open'd  now?  " 

"  No,  Jonas,"  Sargent  smiled,  glancing  at  the  bottle 
of  champagne  placed  conspicuously  on  the  table. 
"  I've  decided  to  keep  it  as  a  souvenir  of  my  first  day 
in  a  new  country  —  and  of  some  one  whose  advice, 
I  verily  believe,  saved  the  day!  " 


BOOK    II 
THE    LAWYER 


67 


CHAPTER   I 

PICTURES   IN    THE    FIRE 

Spring  had  come,  the  joyous,  impatient  spring  of 
the  South,  bringing  in  one  day  a  new  world,  full  of 
warmth  and  splendour.  The  old  house  of  the  Span- 
iards gleamed  once  more  in  the  sunshine,  long  shafts 
of  gold  penetrated  the  shadows  of  the  magnolias  and 
rested  with  a  dazzling  brilliance  upon  the  surrounding 
line  of  columns.  And  the  garden  along  the  terrace 
burst  into  a  sudden  glory  that  showed  it  knew  well 
that  the  cold  winds  of  the  North  had  died  away  for 
many  months. 

Far  down  the  hillside  the  great  river  crept  stealth- 
ily out  of  its  banks,  crawling  up  and  up  until  the 
lowlands  of  the  opposite  shore  became  a  wide,  yellow, 
seemingly  boundless  sea. 

Then  the  seared  forest  began  to  tremble  into  a 
faint  green,  and  everywhere  were  the  chatter  of  birds 
and  the  sounds  of  awakening  life.  Weather  prophets 
shook  their  heads,  saying  the  spring  had  come  too 
early,  that  it  would  mean  a  bad  season  for  the  crops ; 
the  plantation  overseers  were  caught  napping,  and 
rushed  hundreds  of  slaves  into  the  field  to  make  the 
ground  ready  for  planting ;  and  along  the  road  toward 
the  town  three  caravans  of  Voyageurs  had  passed 
already,  on  their  way  from  New  Orleans  to  St. 
Louis  —  all  this  in  the  early  part  of  March. 


70  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

The  days,  lengthening  and  full  of  a  lazy  warmth, 
were  perfect  for  a  short  cessation  from  the  routine 
of  the  schoolroom,  so  that  when  the  young  school- 
master had  asked  for  a  week's  leave  in  which  he  might 
ride  to  a  day's  distant  village,  for  the  purpose  of  pass- 
ing his  examinations  before  the  Judges  of  the  Su- 
preme Court,  his  request  was  readily  granted.  The 
boys  had  received  the  announcement  with  childish 
delight.     Natalia  had  said  nothing. 

The  day  after  the  schoolroom  was  closed,  the  little 
girl  wandered  far  down  the  hillside,  and  watched  the 
great  river,  turbulent  and  angry  in  its  swollen  channel. 
She  sat  there  a  long  time,  not  thoroughly  contented 
in  the  freedom  of  the  holiday,  for  the  last  few  weeks 
had  been  unhappy  ones  for  her.  The  schoolmaster  had 
been  severe  and  impatient  for  many  days,  and  he  had 
not  taken  her  with  him  on  his  long  walks  through  the 
woods.  Until  lately  it  had  been  almost  the  daily 
custom  to  go  directly  after  dinner  along  the  crest  of 
the  hill  quite  away  from  the  road,  toward  the  town. 
Natalia  would  dance  along  beside  him,  flitting  away 
now  and  then  to  inspect  a  hitherto  undiscovered  grape- 
vine swing  or  a  new  birdnest,  and  then  again  walking 
slowly  beside  him,  listening  intently  while  he  told  her 
some  wonderful  story  of  bygone  days.  Sometimes 
when  the  story  was  very  complicated  and  the  words 
too  big  for  her  to  grasp  the  meaning,  she  would  walk 
close  beside  him,  one  hand  in  his,  her  eyes  shut  tight 
while  she  listened  only  to  the  music  of  his  voice. 
Many  days  they  would  go  quite  into  the  town  and 
stop  at  Judge  Houston's  for  a  half  hour,  and  while 
Mrs.  Houston  gave  them  huge  slices  of  jelly  cake, 
and  raisins,  and  tall  goblets  of  milk,  the  Judge  and 


PICTURES    IN    THE    FIRE  71 

the  schoolmaster  would  discuss  the  new  laws  of  the 
State.  Then  it  was  such  fun  to  come  back,  in  the  late 
afternoon,  when  the  wind  was  whistling  through  the 
trees  and  the  grove  about  the  house  was  filling  with 
queer  shadows,  and  find  everybody  gathered  about  the 
blazing  logs  for  a  while  before  the  study  hour. 

But  all  this  had  ended  a  month  before.  The  school- 
master walked  no  more  in  the  afternoons;  he  went 
directly  from  the  dinner  table  to  the  library,  and  shut 
himself  in,  not  coming  out  even  when  the  supper  bell 
rang,  and  many  nights  when  Mammy  Dicey  carried 
the  little  girl  up  to  her  room  she  could  see  a  line  of 
light  beneath  the  library  door.  It  would  be  there  still 
when  she  came  down  hours  later,  and  twice  it  had 
been  there  when  she  went  back  to  waken  the  children 
in  the  morning.  It  was  this  way  to  the  day  he  left, 
not  one  minute  wasted,  as  he  drove  himself  on  and 
on  toward  his  examinations. 

Natalia  had  at  first  been  impatient  and  complain- 
ing of  the  neglect,  then  she  had  become  wounded, 
and  at  last  silent,  and  what  might  have  been  a  joyous 
holiday  grew  more  and  more  monotonous. 

When  the  seventh  day  had  come  she  had  gone 
down  to  the  big  gate,  taking  the  great  cumbersome 
Shakespeare  with  her,  and,  settling  herself  comfort- 
ably against  the  post,  had  waited  for  the  schoolmas- 
ter's return.  In  the  happiness  of  seeing  him  again 
she  had  become  quite  forgiving. 

The  morning  passed  and  he  did  not  come.  The 
afternoon  dragged  along  until  the  birds  had  all  flut- 
tered into  the  grove,  and  gone  to  sleep  —  still,  he  did 
not  come.  Night  came  on,  a  question  or  two  was 
asked,  and  at  last  bedtime  arrived,  with  no  news. 


72  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

Mammy  Dicey  sat  beside  Natalia's  bed  a  long  time 
that  night,  singing  the  whole  repertoire  of  lullabys 
that  usually  closed  the  dusky  little  lids,  without  avail. 
Natalia  lay  staring  up  at  the  ceiling  with  wide-open 
eyes  full  of  doubts  and  fears.  There  had  come  a 
report  the  day  after  the  schoolmaster's  departure,  that 
Jacob  Phelps,  a  notorious  highwayman,  had  suddenly 
appeared  near  the  town  and  robbed  the  Jackson  coach 
in  broad  daylight.  With  the  incident,  all  the  mem- 
ories and  experiences  of  the  town  folk  were  awakened, 
and  each  one  was  recounting  what  he  had  heard  of 
the  man.  It  added  picturesqueness  to  the  tales,  that 
the  freebooter  was  not  a  member  of  a  gang,  but  ac- 
complished his  daring  robberies  without  the  aid  of 
confederates;  and  in  contrast  to  all  the  robbers  that 
infested  this  new  country,  he  killed  his  victims  only 
when  forced  to  do  so  in  escaping.  The  tales  had 
reached  the  children  through  the  servants,  and  for 
Natalia  there  had  been  no  peace  during  the  long  days 
of  the  schoolmaster's  absence. 

When  Mammy  Dicey  had  blown  out  the  can- 
dle and  left  the  room,  closing  the  door  tight  after 
her,  Natalia  jumped  out  of  bed  and  ran  to  the 
window.  Raising  it,  and  pushing  the  shutters  far 
apart,  she  leaned  out  so  as  to  get  a  view  of  the  big 
gate. 

The  moon  was  just  rising,  and  by  its  cold,  white 
light  she  could  see  far  down  the  empty  road.  She 
stood  looking  out,  until  the  night  wind  chilled  her, 
and  she  shivered  under  her  thin  nightgown.  Finally 
she  closed  the  shutters  and  crept  back  to  bed,  huddling 
herself  beneath  the  heavy  quilt  until  she  stopped  trem- 
bling.    Still  she  could  not  sleep  for  the  quick  beating 


PICTURES    IN    THE    FIRE  73 

of  her  heart  and  her  intent  listening.  At  last  she  got 
up  resolutely,  tiptoed  to  the  door  and  went  out  into 
the  hall,  where  a  single  candle  always  burned  at  night. 
For  a  moment  she  hesitated  at  the  top  of  the 
dark  staircase,  then  crept  noiselessly  downstairs  and 
through  the  dining-room  until  she  reached  the  door 
that  led  across  an  open  passage  to  the  kitchen.  She 
gave  a  quick  sigh  of  relief  when  she  saw  a  flickering 
light  through  the  kitchen  window,  and  rushing  across 
the  passage,  burst  into  the  room  and  into  old  Dicey's 
arms,  as  she  crouched  before  the  fire. 

"  Fo'  de  Lawd,  honey  chile,  whut  yer  doin'  a  run- 
nin'  'round  heah  in  de  middle  ob  de  night !  "  the  old 
woman  cried,  gathering  the  child  to  her  deep  bosom 
and  holding  her  tight.  "  An'  yer  footsies  all  cold  an' 
naked  an'  nothin'  more'n  yer  nightgown  on.  Whut's 
de  mattah,  honey  ?" 

"  Oh,  Mammy,  why  don't  he  come  ?  "  Natalia  whis- 
pered, her  head  buried  against  the  old  negro. 

"  He's  a  comin',  sugar,  he's  all  right.  Now  — 
put  dis  shawl  'round  yer  an'  git  wahm.  I'se  gwine 
ter  set  up  an'  wait  fer  him  an'  gib  him  sumthin' 
ter  eat  when  he  gits  heah.  Ole  Miss  tole  me  ter  do 
hit." 

"  But  he  said  he  would  only  be  gone  a  week,  and 
it's  a  week  now,  Mammy  —  and  over.  And  Mammy, 
I  was  so  mean  to  him  when  he  went  away.  I  wouldn't 
tell  him  good-bye  because  he  wouldn't  take  me  walk- 
ing any  more,  and  shut  himself  up  and  studied  and 
studied  and  studied  —  all  the  time.  So  when  he  came 
to  tell  us  good-bye,  I  told  him  I  did  not  want  to  shake 
hands  with  him  because  I  hated  him  and  hoped  he 
wouldn't  ever  come  back.     And  Mammy,"  the  tears 


74  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

were  streaming  down  her  face  now,  "  he  said  maybe 
he  wouldn't  come  back,  maybe  something  would  hap- 
pen to  him.  Now  I  know  what  he  meant  —  he  meant 
Jacob  Phelps  might  kill  him." 

"  No  —  he  didn't  mean  dat.  Don'  yer  worry  erbout 
him,  honey.  Yer  don'  stedy  'bout  nobody  but  him 
all  de  time.  Sence  dat  schoolmas'r  come  yer  done 
clean  fergit  yer  Mammy  Dicey." 

Natalia's  arms  went  about  the  old  woman's  neck 
and  hugged  her  tight.  "  I  won't  ever  forget  you, 
Mammy,"  she  said.  "  Not  for  anybody.  But  I  do 
love  him  lots  —  next  to  you.  He's  so  good  to  me 
all  the  time  and  I  love  so  to  watch  his  eyes  —  aren't 
they  soft  and  sweet?  And,  Mammy,  he  always  lets 
me  talk  to  him  about  Mamma.  Then  he  tells  me  about 
his  Mamma  away  up  in  that  cold  country  —  so  far 
away.  Don't  you  love  to  hear  him  talk  ?  Even  if  he 
does  talk  in  great  big  words  sometimes,  I  just  love 
to  hear  him.  I  don't  care  if  I  don't  know  what  he 
means,  it  sounds  so  fine  and  beautiful,  and  his  voice 
just  flows  and  flows  —  like  the  Bayou  in  the  spring, 
Mammy  —  oh !  do  you  reckon  Jacob  Phelps  has  got 
him?" 

"  Sh'h  —  honey  chile,  sh'h.  Cose  he  hain'  got  him. 
Now  you  just  snuggle  up  'ginst  me  an'  git  wahm. 
Whut  yer  want  Mammy  ter  sing  ter  yer?  Now  — 
dat's  a  heap  bettah  —  ain'  it?" 

Holding  the  little  girl  close  in  her  arms,  Dicey 
reached  out  with  one  hand  and  threw  a  short  log  upon 
the  fire,  then  sitting  back  comfortably  again,  and 
rocking  to  and  fro,  she  began  singing  in  a  barely 
audible  whisper  an  intimate  little  lullaby,  just  for 
themselves : 


PICTURES    IN   THE    FIRE  75 

"  Whar,  oh  whar  am  de  Hebrew  chilluns? 
Whar,  oh  whar  am  de  Hebrew  chilluns? 
Whar,  oh  whar  am  de  Hebrew  chilluns? 
Way  ober  in  de  Promis'  Ian'." 

The  song  was  of  no  avail.  Natalia  still  gazed  out 
of  wide  open  eyes.  Then  Dicey  changed  the  meter  of 
her  melody  and  began  again : 

"Whar  was  Moses  when  de  light  went  out? 
Whar  was  Moses  when  de  light  went  out? 
Whar  was  Moses  when  de  light  went  out? 
Settin'  in  de  dark  wid  his  mouf  poked  out." 

Natalia  always  chuckled  over  the  last  words  of  the 
song,  but  that  night  she  only  stirred  restlessly  and 
stared  up  into  the  old  slave's  eyes.  The  flickering 
glow  of  the  fire  fell  on  Dicey's  face,  lighting  up  the 
countenance  which  had  always  been  the  dearest  in  the 
world  to  the  little  girl.  The  other  slaves  shunned  the 
strange  looking  old  woman,  who  had  not  come  from 
San  Domingo  with  them;  and  her  high  cheek-bones 
and  the  tinge  of  red  beneath  her  brown  skin  gave 
credence  to  the  story  that  her  father  was  an  Indian. 
Many  of  them  had  whispered  to  Natalia  that  her  old 
Mammy  was  a  Voodoo,  and  once,  when  two*  slaves 
had  died  of  smallpox,  a  "  conjure  "  bag  and  a  tiny 
black  coffin  had  been  found  on  the  doorstep  which 
the  others  said  Dicey  had  employed  to  gain  a  re- 
venge. 

But  Natalia  loved  the  old  woman  too  deeply  to  be 
weaned  from  her.  She  and  Zebediah  and  Dicey  grew 
closer  as  the  years  sped  along,  the  old  hostler  remain- 
ing faithful  to  his  one  partner  who  had  worked  side 
by  side  with  him  in  the  grand  old  days  of  Gayosa, 


76  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

and  the  Spanish  occupation.  To  them,  Natalia  was 
all  that  was  left  out  of  that  glorious  past. 

The  kitchen  had  always  been  Dicey's  favourite  rest- 
ing place,  and  at  night  when  the  other  slaves  had 
finished  their  work  and  gone  to  the  quarters,  she 
would  pull  a  little  stool  up  to  the  hearth  and  crouch 
down  before  the  dying  embers,  gazing  intently  into 
the  glow  and  sometimes  crooning  softly  to  herself. 
It  seemed  to  suit  her  —  this  great  old  room  which 
had  for  a  floor  the  hard,  clean-swept  earth,  was  ceiled 
with  roughhewn  beams  and  filled  along  one  side  with 
a  wagonwide  fireplace.  And  when  not  even  a  candle 
was  left  burning,  it  seemed  to  suit  her  even  better,  for 
then  the  four  pots  hanging  from  heavy  cranes  above 
the  fire,  the  rows  of  iron  ovens  placed  against  the 
wall,  the  marble  topped  bread  table,  and  the  immense, 
copper  preserving  kettle  in  a  far  corner  —  all  these 
became  her  eloquent  friends  of  the  past,  and  in  their 
companionship  she  lived  again  the  stories  each  held 
for  her. 

At  the  end  of  the  song  she  glanced  into  Natalia's 
sleepless  eyes  and  smiled.  Even  in  her  inexperience, 
the  little  girl  knew  that  here  was  a  love  nearly  akin 
to  that  of  the  mother  she  had  never  known. 

"  It's  no  use,  Mammy,  I  can't  go  to  sleep."  Na- 
talia slipped  from  Dicey's  arms  to  the  floor.  u  Look, 
it's  nearly  eleven  o'clock.  Oh!  Mammy!"  happily, 
"  maybe  he  stayed  at  Uncle  Felix's  house  in  town. 
But  he  said  he  would  come  right  back  here."  She 
ran  to  the  window  and  peered  out  into  the  moonlight. 
Everything  was  deathly  still.  "  Mammy,"  she  said, 
coming  back  to  Dicey  and  leaning  against  her,  "  can't 
you  look  into  the  fire  and  see  pictures  and  find  out 


PICTURES   IN   THE   FIRE         77 

if  he  is  coming  back?  Clytie  told  me  the  other  day 
that  you  were  a  Voodoo  and  could  tell  what  would 
happen  to  people  —  can  you?  " 

The  old  woman's  eyes  flashed  into  such  angry 
brilliance  that  Natalia  stepped  back,  crying  out  — 
"  Mammy,  what's  the  matter  ?  I  never  saw  you  look 
that  way  before." 

Dicey's  brows  wrinkled  over  her  eyes  into  a  sinis- 
ter expression,  while  her  fingers  twisted  themselves 
into  strange  shapes  as  she  pressed  them  together  in 
her  lap. 

"  Clytie  tole  yer  dat,  did  she  ?  Whut  else  she  done 
tole  yer?" 

"  Nothing  else,  Mammy.     Why  are  you  so  mad  ?  " 

"  'Cause  dat  nigger's  tryin'  to  put  you  'ginst  me  — 
I  knowed  it  all  de  time." 

"  But  no  one  can  do  that,  Mammy,  and  I  don't  mind 
you  being  a  Voodoo  if  you'll  look  in  the  fire  and  see 
if  the  schoolmaster  is  coming  back.  Won't  you, 
please,  Mammy?  " 

"  Whut  yer  wants  ter  know  sich  er  heap  'bout  dat 
Perfesser  fur?  "  Dicey  said,  a  little  subdued  from  her 
excitement,  and  pulling  Natalia  back  to  her.  "  Hit's 
no  use  yer  stedyin'  'bout  him  an'  lubbin'  him,  'cause 
he's  gwine  'way  from  heah  soon's  he  kin,  and  he's 
nebber  gwine  stedy  'bout  you  no  mo'.  Sho'  an'  he 
am',  chile,  an'  hit  am'  no  use  fer  yer  to  be  a  lubbin' 
him  to  sich  er  pint.  Sh'h,  sugar  plum,  don'  yer  cry 
now,"  for  at  her  words  Natalia's  eyes  had  clouded 
and  the  tears  were  beginning  to  pour  down  her  cheeks. 
"  I'se  jest  talkin'  —  dat's  all.  Cose  he  lubs  yer  — 
eve'ybody  do.  Sh'h  now,  and  Mammy'll  fin'  pictures 
fer  yer  in  de  fire." 


78  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

She  knelt  on  the  hearth  and  poked  the  back  log 
until  some  glowing  coals  fell  from  it.  Then  she 
leaned  forward  and  raked  them  into  a  heap,  blowing 
upon  them  all  the  time  to  keep  them  alive.  Natalia 
crept  up  behind  her,  watching  intently  her  every  move- 
ment. The  room  was  deathly  still,  except  for  the 
laboured  breathing  of  the  old  woman  blowing  life 
into  the  cooling  embers,  and  as  the  moments  slipped 
by,  the  moon  swung  opposite  the  window  and  sent  a 
streak  of  ghostly  light  into  the  dark  kitchen. 

Natalia  stared  into  Dicey's  face,  a  new  fear  of  the 
old  woman  taking  possession  of  her.  She  had  never 
seen  this  expression  on  her  face,  a  far  away  look  in 
her  eyes  as  if  she  were  seeing  into  another  world  and 
was  frozen  lifeless  by  the  vision. 

Natalia  put  one  cold,  trembling  hand  on  the  negro's 
coarsened  one.  There  was  no  response  to  her  touch. 
"  What  is  it,  Mammy  ?  "  she  whispered.  "  Tell  me 
what  you  see." 

The  old  woman's  body  shook  convulsively,  then 
she  sank  upon  her  haunches  and  sat  still,  staring  into 
the  ashes.  "  I  sees  a  long,  long  time  afore  me."  She 
began  to  count  automatically  until  she  reached  six, 
then  suddenly  stopped.  "  Six  years.  I  sees  heaps  ob 
watah  and  heaps  ob  trabellin'  'bout.  I  sees  a  strange 
man  wid  yeller  ha'r  an'  blue  eyes.  An'  dah's  er  wed- 
din'  goin'  on,  and  a  bride  ooman  all  dressed  out  waitin' 
fer  him  —  an'  he  ain'  comin'.  Dah's  er  dead  man, 
too.  Who's  he?  Who's  he?  Fo*  Gawd,  I  knows 
him.  An'  de  bride  ooman  —  Lawdy,  honey  chile," 
the  old  woman's  voice  rose  to  a  shrill  cry.  "  Honey 
chile,  de  bride  ooman's  you." 

Dicey  grabbed  Natalia  to  her,  her  bosom  rising  and 


PICTURES    IN    THE    FIRE  79 

falling  rapidly,  her  breath  gasping,  her  eyes  wild  with 
the  vision.  And  while  they  sat  there,  each  clinging 
to  the  other  under  the  strange  spell,  the  loud  clanging 
of  a  bell  burst  upon  the  still  night.  Both  of  them 
rose  quickly  and  ran  to  the  window.  Dicey  threw  the 
sash  up,  and  the  sound  of  the  bell  rushed  into  the  room, 
bringing  with  it  the  intensity  of  the  one  who  was 
ringing  it  a  mile  away. 

"  Hit's  de  bell  on  Massa  Puckett's  plantashun," 
Dicey  said,  after  she  had  listened  a  few  minutes  in 
silence.  "  Sumthin's  done  happen.  Mebbe  his  house 
done  ketch  fire.  We  kin  go  up  ter  yo'  room  an' 
see.,, 

She  had  picked  up  Natalia  and  carried  her  toward 
the  door,  when  she  stopped  again.  The  sound  of  a 
galloping  horse  out  on  the  highroad  came  to  them 
distinctly.  Another  minute  and  the  horse  had  stopped 
before  the  gate  and  they  could  hear  some  one  ap- 
proaching the  house. 

Dicey  lighted  a  candle  and  held  it  to  the  window. 
"  It's  only  I,  Dicey,"  Sargent  Everett's  voice  came 
out  of  the  darkness.  "  Is  every  one  safe  here?  Mr. 
Puckett  has  been  murdered  and  a  crowd  of  men  are 
out  with  the  bloodhounds.  They  think  it  is  some  of 
Jacob  Phelps'  work." 

Dicey  opened  the  door,  and  held  the  candle  high 
to  light  him  in.  "  Ole  Miss  done  tole  me  ter  sabe 
yer  some  suppah.  I  knows  yer's  hungry  and  tired 
out.     Come  in  heah  and  set  down." 

Sargent  entered  the  room,  the  candle  light  gleam- 
ing on  his  dusty  clothes  and  weary  features.  Before 
he  had  gone  half  way  across  the  room  he  fell  into  the 
nearest  chair,  from  utter  exhaustion. 


80  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

"How's   our   little   girl,    Dicey?"    were   his   first 
words. 

Dicey  looked  up  from  the  tray  she  was  placing  on 
the  table,  and  smiled,  shaking  her  head  knowingly. 
"  I  reckon  she's  all  right,  now  dat  you'se  back." 
All  the  while  Natalia  was  watching  him  from  the 
dark  corner  in  which  she  stood,  noting  the  tired  look 
in  his  eyes,  and  the  strange  new  expression  of  excite- 
ment  that  made  his    face   seem   almost   unfamiliar. 
Then  suddenly  she  flew  across  the  room  toward  him, 
and  pressed  both  arms  tight  about  his  neck,  gazing 
at  him  with  eyes  grown  brilliantly  black. 
"  I'm  so  —  so  glad  you've  come  back !  " 
"  Fo'  de  Lawd !  "  cried  Dicey,  dropping  a  dish  with 
a  clatter.     "  Ain'  you  got  no  manners  at  all,  runnin' 
'round  heah  fo'  a  gemman  wid  nothin'  more'n  a  jay- 
bird on !    I  sees  I'se  got  ter  manage  yer !    Come  heah 
and  git  up  to  yer  room  dis  minit,"  and  as  the  door 
closed  after  them  Sargent  heard  the  complaint  grow- 
ing louder  and  louder  —  "  No  mo'  manners  dan  er 
jack-rabbit  —  dan  er  jack-rabbit !  " 


CHAPTER    II 

THE    OPENED    WOUND 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day,  when  the  school- 
room had  been  closed,  Sargent  rode  into  the  town. 
In  his  pocket  he  carried  a  letter  which  had  come  to 
him  a  few  hours  before,  from  Judge  Houston. 

"  My  most  hearty  congratulations,"  it  ran,  "  I  have 
heard  from  one  of  your  compagnons  de  voyage,  of 
your  success.  Are  you  ready  for  your  first  case  ?  It  is 
waiting  for  you.     Come  in  this  afternoon. 

"  Felix  Houston." 

His  first  case!  Sargent  read  the  delicate,  pains- 
taking chirography  again  and  again.  Could  it  be 
possible  that  he  was  to  have  a  chance  to  plead  before 
the  bar,  when  his  examinations  were  only  a  few  days 
behind  him ! 

He  had  received  the  note  as  he  stood  in  the  door 
of  the  little  schoolhouse,  with  the  sound  in  his  ears  of 
the  children  buzzing  over  their  lessons,  and  as  the 
full  realization  of  its  meaning  swept  over  him,  he 
pulled  out  the  loud  clanking  watch  his  father  had  once 
brought  him  from  the  Bermudas,  and  impatiently 
counted  the  time  that  must  elapse  before  he  could 
know  what  the  letter  really  meant. 

It  seemed  hours  before  the  time  came  to  leave,  and 

81 


82  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

Zebediah  stood  at  the  door  with  a  horse  saddled  and 
waiting  for  him. 

"  You've  just  come  back,  and  you're  going  away 
again  —  already !  "  Natalia  said  plaintively,  following 
him  to  the  gate,  her  little  hand  clasped  tight  in 
his. 

"  But  I  shall  not  be  gone  long,  Natalia  —  only  an 
hour  or  two.  And  when  I  come  back,  I  shall  tell  you 
all  about  the  terrible  judges  who  sat  on  a  platform, 
all  in  a  row,  and  asked  me  all  sorts  of  questions  about 
the  laws  of  our  country." 

"  I  don't  care  a  picayune  about  the  judges,"  the 
little  girl  complained,  "  but  I  do  want  you  to  tell  me 
all  about  old  Mr.  Puckett,  and  how  Jacob  Phelps 
killed  him.  Mammy  says  Mamma  Brandon  told  her 
not  to  tell  us  about  it,  but  you  will,  won't  you  ?  " 

Sargent  looked  down  at  her,  as  she  stood  with  her 
vivid  little  face,  excited  and  intense  over  the  subject, 
looking  up  at  him,  her  hands  clasped  tight  in  a  char- 
acteristic gesture.  It  always  made  him  marvel  when 
he  saw  her  so  passionately  intent  over  something  — 
for  in  the  darkening  grey  eyes  and  warm  rich  glow 
beneath  her  olive  skin,  a  wealth  of  hereditary  influence 
asserted  itself. 

"  You  will  tell  me  when  you  come  back?  "  she  re- 
peated, as  Sargent  mounted  his  horse  without  an- 
swering. 

M  Wouldn't  you  rather  hear  about  my  first  case?  " 
he  asked,  avoiding  an  answer. 

"Your  first  case?" 

"  Yes  —  Judge  Houston  says  he  has  one  for  me. 
So  I  am  going  now  to  find  out  what  it  is." 

Natalia  slipped  one  hand  through  the  bars  of  the 


THE    OPENED    WOUND  83 

great  gate,  and  leaned  against  it,  not  in  the  least  en- 
thusiastic. 

"  I  don't  care  much  about  the  case,"  she  began, 
almost  sadly,  "if  it  is  going  to  take  you  away  every 
day  after  school,  and  keep  you  from  reading  to  me 
any  more  or  taking  me  walking.  I  wouldn't  care  if 
you  didn't  ever  have  a  case  if  it's  going  to  be  this 
way." 

Sargent  leaned  from  his  saddle,  and  lifted  the  little 
girl  up  beside  him. 

"  It  isn't  going  to  be  that  way,  Natalia,"  he  said 
quietly  when  she  was  comfortably  adjusted  and  tug- 
ging at  her  skirts.  "  Nothing  in  the  world  is  going 
to  separate  us  —  ever.  Will  you  ride  with  me  to  the 
main  road  ?  " 

As  they  passed  out  of  the  gate,  the  boughs  of  the 
overlapping  trees  casting  queer  shadows  upon  their 
path,  the  faint,  pungent  odour  of  new  leaves  making 
the  air  fresh  and  spicy,  they  were  silent  a  long  time, 
each  happy  and  contented  in  a  very  different  way. 

"  Then  what  Mammy  told  me  last  night  isn't  so?  " 
Natalia  broke  the  long  silence. 

"What  did  she  tell  you?" 

"  That  you  would  soon  be  going  away,  and  for- 
getting all  about  me." 

Sargent  shook  his  head,  slowly.  From  where  he 
sat  he  could  only  see  the  little  head  with  its  mass  of 
black  hair  and  two  long  braids.  Suddenly  he  leaned 
forward  and  kissed  it  in  the  wide  part.  "  I  shall  never 
forget  you,  Natalia.     It  will  be  quite  the  other  way." 

"  Not  even  when  I  go  away?  " 

u  Not  even  then  —  but  that  will  not  be  soon." 

For  a  moment  Natalia  was  silent;   then,  in  a  whis- 


84  THE    LEAD    OF   HONOUR 

per,  "  You  mustn't  tell  it,  but  —  I  may  go  next  week. 
I  heard  Mamma  Brandon  reading  a  letter  this  week 
to  Aunt  Maria.  It  was  from  her  kinsfolk  in  Boston. 
They  want  her  to  send  me  up  there." 

"  To  the  Talbots !  "  Sargent  exclaimed.  "  I  know 
them.  Morgan  Talbot  is  my  best  friend.  We  were 
at  college  together." 

"  I  don't  want  to  go  without  you,"  Natalia 
continued  slowly,  then  with  sudden  enthusiasm; 
14  Couldn't  you  go  with  me?  I'll  ask  Mamma  Bran- 
don as  soon  as  I  get  back  home." 

They  were  at  the  highroad  now,  and  Sargent  drew 
in  his  rein.  "  It  would  be  fine,"  he  laughed,  "  but 
like  many  fine  things,  it's  not  altogether  practical." 

"  Anyhow,  I'm  going  right  back  to  ask  Mamma 
Brandon  if  she  won't  let  you  go,"  and  as  Sargent 
turned  into  the  main  road,  he  looked  back  and  saw 
her  running  toward  the  house. 

When  he  reached  the  town,  the  signs  of  the  awaken- 
ing season  were  on  all  sides.  Lawns  were  being  raked 
clean,  gardens  were  blossoming,  women  were  on  the 
walks  and  talking  to  each  other  over  fences,  about  the 
new  shipment  of  delaines  and  dimities  and  lawns  that 
had  just  come  up  from  New  Orleans.  Houses  were 
wide  open  and  the  sunlight  was  gilding  and  brighten- 
ing everything.  A  farmer,  standing  in  his  wagon, 
was  selling  his  last  lot  of  smoked  sausage  to  a  crowd 
gathered  about  him;  and  selling  it  to  advantage,  for 
he  was  telling  them  there  would  be  no  more  until  next 
November.  Old  Mrs.  Buckingham  was  airing  her 
mattress  on  the  front  veranda,  and  her  famous  bego- 
nias had  been  seen  on  the  steps  for  at  least  a  week. 
Verily,  spring  had  come. 


THE    OPENED    WOUND  85 

The  road  that  passed  the  old  house  of  the  Span- 
iards led  directly  into  the  town,  and  became  its  main 
street.  As  Sargent  rode  along  it  he  felt  a  growing 
affection  for  these  townsfolk  and  their  habitations, 
for  they  had  received  him,  not  as  a  stranger  but  as 
an  old  friend.  Already  he  was  beginning  to  recog- 
nize nearly  all  the  faces  he  saw,  for  with  his  frequent 
visits  to  the  town,  his  walks  with  Judge  Houston,  their 
churchgoing  each  Sunday,  and  the  many  afternoons 
he  had  spent  in  the  brick  courthouse,  listening  to  the 
arguing  of  cases  where  flamboyant  eloquence  and 
thundering  invective  usually  brought  success  —  all 
these  associations  had  given  him  a  feeling  of  becom- 
ing one  of  them. 

When  he  had  left  his  horse  at  the  stable,  and  turned 
toward  the  tavern  to  get  a  late  newspaper  —  there 
had  been  a  boat  that  day  —  he  noticed  the  unusual 
crowd  gathered  on  the  street,  particularly  in  the 
courthouse  yard  and  before  the  jail. 

"  Is  there  a  boat  in,  or  a  coach,  or  an  Indian  mas- 
sacre?" he  asked,  when  he  had  stopped  at  the  greet- 
ing of  some  friends. 

"Haven't  you  heard?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pintard,  a 
wealthy  planter  from  an  adjoining  county. 

"  You  forget  I  live  in  the  country,"  Sargent  ex- 
plained, smiling.  "  But  I  trust  all  this  excitement  war- 
rants your  interest." 

"  Josiah  Puckett  was  murdered  last  night  and 
Jacob  Phelps  has  been  trapped  and  brought  into  town. 
He's  over  there  in  the  jail  now.  We've  got  him  this 
time." 

"  Then  he  was  the  man  who  killed  Mr.  Puckett?  " 
Sargent  asked  quickly. 


86  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

"  There's  no  doubt  of  it.  The  hounds  tracked  him 
to  the  canebrake  on  Puckett's  place.  It's  wonderful 
—  the  first  time  he  was  ever  captured  in  his  whole 
career!  " 

"  And  now  that  we've  got  him,"  commented  Mr. 
Suggs,  joining  the  group,  "  I  don't  see  why  he  should 
have  any  trial.  We  all  know  what  he's  done,  and  I 
say  there's  no  excuse  for  waiting:  I  say  string  him 
up  to-night!  But!  —  Judge  Houston  says  not.  He 
says  the  man  must  be  tried  —  that  we  are  barbarians 
no  longer.     So  the  trial  is  to  come  off  next  week." 

"  A  trial !  "  exclaimed  Pintard.  "  What  good  is  a 
trial  without  a  defence,  and  who  would  defend  Phelps  ? 
I'll  wager  you  could  not  find  a  man  in  the  county  who 
would  take  the  case." 

"  Not  so  fast,  my  friend,"  drawled  Mr.  Suggs. 
"  Somebody  has  been  found  to  defend  him." 

The  crowd  gathered  closer.  Suggs  always  carried 
startling  tidings ;   it  was  part  of  his  profession. 

"  Who  ?  "  demanded  the  half  dozen  listeners. 

"  Mr.  Lemuel  Jervais !  "  Mr.  Suggs  pronounced 
the  name  quietly,  with  the  enjoyment  of  one  who  de- 
lighted in  throwing  bombs. 

"  Lemuel  Jervais !  You  don't  mean  it !  It's  a 
damned  lie!  Why,  he  wouldn't  dare!  He  couldn't 
afford  it!" 

Mr.  Suggs  drew  himself  to  his  full  height,  swelling 
portentously  beneath  his  linsey  waistcoat,  and  looked 
each  man  squarely  in  the  eye. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  answered,  "  if  you  can  not  take 
the  word  of  a  gentleman,  go  in  the  Mansion  House 
bar  and  ask  Mr.  Jervais  himself.  I  just  left  him 
there."      Then,    from    a    more    antagonistic    height, 


THE    OPENED    WOUND  87 

"  And  I'd  like  to  know  who  the  blackguard  is  who 
called  what  I  said,  '  a  damned  lie  ' !  " 

"  Why  has  Jervais  done  this ! "  Sargent  exclaimed, 
ignoring  the  last  remark.  "  There  must  be  some  good 
reason.    Of  course,  he  can  explain  it." 

"  Oh  yes,  —  he  explains  it,"  Suggs  answered,  his 
anger  diverted.  "  He  says  he's  had  a  streak  of  bad 
luck  lately,  and  he's  got  to  pay  up  some  way.  Phelps 
offered  him  a  thousand  dollars  to  clear  him." 

"  He'll  never  win  that  thousand,"  Pintard  com- 
mented. "  He  might  as  well  throw  up  the  case  now. 
Clear  Phelps  in  this  town,  where  we  all  know  what 
he's  been  doing  for  ten  years !  Why,  man,  it's  ridic- 
ulous!" 

Mr.  Suggs  leisurely  folded  his  arms  and  looked 
reflectively  in  the  direction  of  the  jail. 

"  On  the  contrary,"  he  remarked,  "  it  will  be  very 
easy  for  him  to  clear  Phelps.  The  evidence  is  only 
circumstantial.  No  one  saw  him  commit  the  murder. 
Nobody  can  swear  to  it.  All  they  know  is  that  he 
was  captured  in  a  canebrake  near  Puckett's  house,  on 
the  night  of  the  murder,  and  it  will  take  a  mighty 
good  lawyer  to  convince  the  jury  that  he  is  the  mur- 
derer; that  is,  unless  the  trial  is  overruled  by  senti- 
ment, and  it's  not  likely  to  be,  with  Felix  Houston 
as  judge.  I'll  tell  you,  gentlemen,  I  don't  want  the 
prosecution.     It's  not  a  job  worth  having." 

"  Somebody's  got  to  do  it,  though.  Attorney 
Semmes  has  been  sick  for  a  month  and  can  not  leave 
his-  home.    Who'll  they  get  ?  " 

"  The  Judge  will  appoint  some  one  to-morrow 
morning,  I  understand,"  Mr.  Suggs  replied  from  his 
inexhaustible  store  of  information.     "  And  let  us  all 


88  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

pray,"  he  added,  meekly  folding  his  hands  across  his 
breast,  "  that  it  won't  be  one  of  us." 

Sargent  slipped  away  from  the  crowd,  unnoticed. 
The  possible  meaning  of  Judge  Houston's  note  rushed 
over  him,  bringing  with  it  an  army  of  hopes  and  fears. 
Could  it  be  that  he  himself  was  to  represent  the  State 
in  this  trial?  The  idea  stuck  in  his  thoughts  with  the 
potency  of  truth.  Under  its  influence  he  walked  rap- 
idly in  the  direction  of  his  friend's  home,  with  the 
question  obliterating  his  surroundings. 

He  was  passing  the  Mansion  House  when  he  heard 
his  name  called  loudly,  and  turning,  found  Jervais 
staggering  toward  him,  out  of  the  barroom. 

"  Hello,  Everett !  Didn't  know  you  could  walk  so 
fast."  Jervais  slapped  him  on  the  back  and  laughed 
noisily.  Sargent  took  the  outstretched  hand  and  then 
dropped  it  quickly,  in  his  desire  to  get  away  from 
the  man,  for  Jervais  when  sober  had  always  been 
irritating  to  him,  almost  insulting  in  his  hauteur; 
drunk,  he  was  both  disgusting  and  dangerous.  They 
had  met  frequently  during  the  winter,  for  it  was  the 
regular  custom  of  Jervais  to  take  Sunday  dinner  with 
Mrs.  Brandon,  a  fact  which  Sargent  had  never  been 
able  to  understand.  Nothing  seemed  so  incongruous 
to  him  as  the  cool,  self-possessed,  formal  chatelaine 
receiving  attention  from  a  man  of  Jervais's  calibre 
and  reputation.  The  man  had  never  grown  congenial, 
and  during  the  last  months  their  discussions  at  the 
dinner  table  had  been  so  heated  that  Sargent  had 
chosen  that  day  to  spend  in  long  rides,  in  preference 
to  sitting  through  a  dinner  of  several  hours,  opposite 
a  man  whose  political  and  social  beliefs  were  so  di- 
rectly  opposed    to   his    own.      Judge    Houston    had 


THE    OPENED    WOUND  89 

laughed  over  the  antagonism,  telling  Sargent  it  was 
good  training  for  him  to  meet  such  a  man  and  learn 
to  restrain  himself.  Sargent  had  answered  that  re- 
straint, when  it  was  a  matter  of  convictions  and  creeds, 
was  worthless. 

"  Haven't  seen  you  since  you  got  in  the  ring,"  Jer- 
vais  continued  unsteadily.  "  How  d'you  feel  ?  Like 
you  could  conquer  the  world,  I  suppose!  How  many 
years  do  you  think  you'll  have  to  wait  for  a  case?  — 
Ten  —  eh  ?  Say  —  wait  a  minute  —  will  you  ?  "  as 
Sargent  struggled  from  his  grasp.  "  Want  to  tell 
you  something  —  it's  a  secret.  Phelps  offered  me  a 
thousand  dollars  to  clear  him.  I  had  to  take  it  — 
been  gambling  too  much  lately.  But  I  tell  you,  Ever- 
ett, I  don't  want  the  Widow  Brandon  to  hear  about 
it.     Now  —  don't  tell  her  —  will  you  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not,  Jervais ;  I'll  not  mention  it  to  her. 
But  you  had  better  tell  her  yourself.  Of  course  she 
will  hear  of  it  from  some  one.  Good-bye,  I'm  in  a 
hurry." 

"  Say,  Everett,"  Jervais  still  clung  to  his  arm. 
"  When  are  you  going  to  have  your  first  case?  I'm 
dead  anxious  to  see  you  before  the  bar.  A  Yankee 
schoolteacher  a  lawyer  —  that'll  be  rich!  Say  —  a 
crippled  one,  too  —  that'll  be  a  joke."  He  ended  with 
another  loud  burst  of  merriment. 

For  a  second  Sargent  stared  into  the  leering  face 
of  the  drunken  man.  Then,  trembling  in  a  spasm  of 
rage,  his  fingers  knotted  themselves  together,  and 
before  he  was  aware  of  what  he  was  doing,  his  arm 
had  shot  up  and  delivered  a  blow  full  into  Jervais' 
face. 

As  soon  as  he  had  done  it,  a  strange  calm  swept 


90  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

over  him,  and  he  stood  as  one  aloof,  looking  on  the 
result  of  his  act. 

Jervais  staggered  back  a  step,  wheeled  in  an  at- 
tempt to  keep  his  balance,  and  fell  full  length  upon 
the  pavement. 

In  a  second  a  crowd  was  about  them,  several  as- 
sisting Jervais  to  rise. 

When  he  had  regained  his  feet,  Sargent  made  a 
step  toward  him  — "  Is  he  hurt?"  he  asked  very 
quietly. 

u  No  —  don't  you  know  you  can't  hurt  a  drunken 
man?" 

Then  Jervais  made  a  lunge  toward  him,  but  was 
held  back  by  two  men  who  were  supporting  him.  His 
face  was  distorted  into  the  trembling  features  of  rage, 
flushed  a  purple  crimson,  and  from  his  eyes  shot  out 
the  fury  of  unchained  hatred.  Sargent  involuntarily 
looked  away,  sickened. 

"  You  damned  cripple !  —  to  insult  me  in  the 
street !  "  Jervais  shouted  in  his  fury.  "  You  can't 
fight  like  a  man  with  a  man.  You'd  claim  you  were 
not  able,  I  suppose!  But  I  demand  satisfaction!  I'll 
have  it,  too.  There's  one  way  to  settle  this  thing  — 
d'you  hear?    A  way  to  settle  this  for  good!  " 

"  Very  well  —  we'll  settle  it  whenever  you  wish." 
Sargent  wheeled  quickly  and  walked  from  the  crowd. 

Half  a  block  away  he  found  himself  suddenly  stand- 
ing before  some  one  who  barred  the  way.  When  he 
had  felt  both  his  arms  in  a  tight  grip,  and  heard  the 
sound  of  a  familiar,  hearty  laugh,  he  looked  up  and 
recognized  Captain  Mentdrop. 

For  a  moment  his  excitement  and  surprise  kept 
back  a  greeting,  so  that  the  old  Captain's  face  lost 


THE    OPENED    WOUND  91 

its  geniality  and  the  twinkle  in  his  eyes  became  frank 
disappointment.  "  So  you've  forgotten  me,  have 
you?  "  he  said,  with  an  odd  little  ring  in  his  voice. 

"  No  —  no,  Captain !  "  Sargent  struggled  to  force 
the  words.  "  Of  course  I  have  not  forgotten  you,  but 
I  don't  want  to  talk  to  you  here.  Can't  we  get  away 
somewhere  ?  " 

The  old  fellow's  keen  eyes  swept  Sargent's  face, 
reading  there  the  signs  of  the  recent  struggle. 

"  What's  up,  youngster?  "  He  bent  a  little  forward. 
"  What's  a  troublin'  you  ?  Your  face  is  as  red  as  a 
beet,  and  you've  got  a  mighty  bad  glare  in  your  eyes. 
Come  on  up  to  my  room  here  in  the  Mansion  House. 
I  was  resting  very  comfortable-like  up  there,  till  I 
saw  some  sort  of  a  scuffle  going  on  out  here."  Then 
with  a  quick  intuition,  he  searched  Sargent's  face 
again.    "  It  ain't  possible  you  were  mixed  up  in  it !  " 

They  went  up  the  tavern  steps  and  entered  the  Cap- 
tain's room.  When  the  old  fellow  had  closed  the  door 
after  them,  he  turned  back  to  Sargent,  who  had  sunk 
into  a  chair  near  the  window,  and  watched  the  young 
fellow,  his  lips  twitching  slightly  and  his  eyes  crisply 
twinkling  with  the  humour  he  was  struggling  to  keep 
back. 

"  You  weren't  mixed  up  in  it,  youngster,  were 
you  ?  "  he  repeated,  with  his  lips  twitching  again. 

Sargent  met  his  look  squarely.  "  Yes,  I  was  in  it. 
A  street  fight !     I  knocked  Lemuel  Jervais  down !  " 

"  You !  Lemuel  Jervais  —  Oh !  "  And  the  Cap- 
tain could  restrain  himself  no  longer.  He  dropped 
into  a  chair,  the  whole  of  his  great  frame  shaking 
with  loud  gusts  of  laughter,  while  the  tears  gushed 
forth  and  rolled  down  his  furrowed  cheeks.     "  On 


92  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

my  honour  —  it's  too  good  to  believe,"  he  cried 
breathlessly.  "  You  and  Lem  Jervais  in  a  street  fight. 
And  when  you  were  on  that  boat  with  me  I  thought 
you  were  as  harmless  as  a  kitten.  Gee  Whillikens !  " 
and  he  let  out  a  long  whistle,  "  but  you  are  a  prom- 
ising youngster  —  after  all.  Easy,  now.  Don't  blaze 
your  eyes  at  me  that  way.  I  wasn't  the  cause  of  it. 
When  you  get  cooled  down  a-plenty,  tell  me  about  it. 
Ugh,  but  you  are  huffy  about  it !  "  as  Sargent  re- 
mained impervious  to  his  humour.  "  You  know  what 
I  do  when  I  get  that  upset?  I  just  lock  myself  up 
in  my  cabin  where  nobody  can  get  to  me  and  I  can 
get  to  nobody,  and  I  cuss  everybody  and  everything 
that  I  can  get  my  mind  on  —  you  ought  to  hear  me ! 
I  can  cuss  like  a  beauty  when  I  get  warmed  up  to 
my  subject,  and  will  you  believe  me,  sir,  when  I  come 
out  I'm  as  cool  as  a  cucumber.  Honest  Injun,  I  am 
—  just  like  a  May  morning.  Want  to  try  it?  I'll 
give  you  the  room  to  yourself.  Well  —  if  you  won't, 
maybe  telling  me  about  it  will  help  you  let  off  a 
little  steam.    Now  —  how  d'  it  start  ?  " 

Sargent  raised  his  head  at  the  last  question,  and 
looked  into  the  twinkling  grey  eyes  before  him. 
When  he  spoke,  his  voice  was  sharp  and  unsteady. 

"  He  was  drunk  and  laughed  at  me  —  laughed  at 
my  deformity!  He  said  it  would  be  a  joke  for  me 
to  plead  any  case  before  the  bar.  I,  a  Yankee  school- 
teacher —  a  crippled  one  at  that !  " 

The  Captain  was  out  of  his  chair  and  before  Sar- 
gent in  a  second.  The  twinkle  had  gone  out  of  his 
eyes.    They  were  steely  now. 

"  The  damned  scoundrel!     And  you?" 

"  I  knocked  him  down." 


THE    OPENED    WOUND  93 

"  Before  the  whole  crowd  ?    Good !    Then  ?  " 

"  He  challenged  me." 

The  old  fellow's  face  brightened. 

"  Better  still !    When'll  it  be  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  yet." 

"  Am  I  the  first  you've  talked  to  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Good !  Good !  I'll  help  you.  I'll  be  your  sec- 
ond." 

The  old  fellow  rubbed  his  hands  together  and  the 
gleam  came  back  into  his  eyes,  while  his  furrowed 
face  became  tinged  with  a  faint  glow  that  shone  youth- 
ful beneath  the  coarsened,  weather-worn  skin. 

Sargent  stared  at  him  blankly. 

"  You,"  he  exclaimed,  seemingly  without  compre- 
hension. 

"  Yes,  I  —  that  is,"  and  the  Captain  glanced  at  him 
with  a  tinge  of  resentment,  "  unless  you  prefer  some 
one  else." 

Sargent  grasped  his  hands  silently. 

"  That's  right ;  you  let  me  take  charge  of  this 
thing,  boy.  I'll  do  it  up  in  ship-shape."  He  let  his 
hand  drop  with  rough  affection  on  Sargent's  shoulder. 
"  It's  mighty  lucky  I'm  going  to  be  here  for  two 
weeks.  My  boilers  are  out  of  fix  and  I'm  tied  up  for 
repairs.  Let  me  know  when  you  get  the  challenge 
and  I'll  help  you  fix  the  whole  thing.  I  know  all  about 
how  these  things  are  done.  Now,  don't  go  back  on 
me,  and  think  you  ought  to  ask  a  younger  fellow, 
for  if  anything  should  happen  to  you  and  I  had  to 
take  your  place,  there  ain't  a  living  soul  dependent  on 
me. 

Sargent  rose  without  a  word.     Then,  turning  sud- 


94  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

denly,  he  went  out  of  the  room  and  down  the  steps, 
followed  by  the  old  fellow,  who  still  held  his  arm  in 
a  firm  grasp.  Stopping  when  they  had  reached  the 
pavement,  the  Captain  glanced  once  more  at  the  young 
fellow's  face,  his  twinkling  eyes  beaming  affectionately 
from  their  thousand  encircling  wrinkles. 

"  Who'd  'a'  thought  when  we  parted  on  the  boat 
that  day,  that  we'd  meet  in  a  mix-up  like  this?  I  kind 
a'  felt  all  along  that  you  were  going  to  make  your 
name.  I  can  size  up  a  promising  youngster  every 
time.  Just  to  think  of  it !  "  and  he  ended  with  a  slap 
on  Sargent's  shoulder.  "  Good-bye,  and  don't  for- 
get," he  lowered  his  voice  confidentially,  "  I'm  going 
to  be  your  second.  D'you  hear?  Even  if  you  didn't 
ask  me.    It's  all  of  my  own  choosing." 


CHAPTER    III 

A    DEMAND    OF    HONOUR 

The  balmy  twilight  had  softened  into  night  as  Sar- 
gent walked  away  from  the  tavern,  and  in  the  sudden 
privacy  of  the  darkness  the  diverting  influence  of  the 
old  Captain's  personality  faded,  and  all  the  details 
of  his  encounter  with  Jervais  returned  to  him  with 
an  added  intensity. 

Again,  as  he  felt  the  moment  he  struck  Jervais, 
there  came  to  him  a  sensation  of  burning  alive  under 
the  insult  —  the  insult  that  he  could  not  repudiate. 
The  blood  rushed  to  his  head  and  pounded  like  a 
great  firing  of  artillery,  and  when  he  had  crossed  the 
street  from  the  tavern,  and  struck  into  a  deserted 
thoroughfare,  he  leaned  against  a  fence  to  keep  from 
falling,  for  the  mental  agony  had  brought  with  it  a 
keen  sense  of  physical  weakness.  Why  was  this  curse 
of  physical  deformity  to  follow  him  always!  Was 
it  some  punishment  of  God's  that  was  to  be  eternal? 
The  saner  forces  of  his  nature,  the  gentle  influences 
of  his  early  training,  the  memories  which  had  so  far 
kept  him  pure  and  noble,  receded  under  this  sudden 
unloosening  of  the  resentment  against  his  infirmity 
which  he  had  always  forced  himself  to  subdue.  With 
this  unchaining  of  all  restraint,  he  became  for  the 
moment  another  creature.  Barbaric  instincts  came  to 
life,  and  he  felt  the  thrill  of  a  discoverer  at  finding 
such  characteristics  in  his  possession. 

96 


96  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

Then,  out  of  the  swirling  ensemble,  came  one 
thought  that  quickly  chained  everything  else  into  sub- 
mission —  a  determination  to  meet  Jervais  in  the  trial 
of  Phelps,  to  oppose  him,  to  defeat  him,  to  bring  him 
to  an  inexorable  failure  before  the  Court,  to  make  his 
fall  so  great  that  he  would  be  robbed  even  of  any 
desire  for  future  honours :  That  would  be  his  revenge. 
Afterward,  he  would  not  care  what  happened  in  the 
duel;  nothing  would  matter  after  he  had  fully  tasted 
the  sweetness  of  his  revenge.  So  completely  had  he 
sunk  under  the  obsession  of  this  new  line  of  thought 
that  when  he  entered  Judge  Houston's  unlighted  li- 
brary a  few  minutes  later,  the  metamorphosis  showed 
in  every  line  of  his  features. 

He  spoke  no  word  of  greeting,  only  grasped  the 
extended  hand  and  looked  into  the  kind  eyes  of  the 
old  gentleman  with  fixed  intensity. 

"  Was  the  case  you  meant,  the  prosecution  of 
Phelps  ?" 

Judge  Houston  stepped  back  from  him,  surprised 
into  a  short  silence  by  the  wild  expression  in  Sargent's 
eyes. 

u  Yes  —  how  did  you  guess  it?  " 

"  Thank  God !  " 

The  words  escaped  Sargent  in  a  sob  that  was  the 
concentrated  expression  of  his  suffering.  He  sank 
into  a  familiar  chair  beside  the  table,  and  let  his  head 
drop  into  his  hands. 

The  old  man  looked  at  him  in  silence,  surprise,  sym- 
pathy and  fear  glowing  in  his  clear  blue  eyes.  Finally 
he  walked  over  to  Sargent  and  rested  his  hand  on 
the  young  fellow's  shoulder. 

"  What  is  it,  boy?    What  is  troubling  you  so?  " 


A    DEMAND    OF    HONOUR  97 

"  It  is  only  the  relief  your  words  have  given  me. 
My  only  fear  was  that  I  might  be  mistaken." 

The  Judge's  brow  was  wrinkled  a  long  time  as  he 
puzzled  over  the  words. 

"  Were  you  so  anxious  to  have  the  case?  "  he  asked. 
"  You  know,  I  was  half  afraid  you  might  not  want  it." 

Sargent  lifted  his  face  and  met  the  kind  eyes. 
"  Yes,  I  want  it !  I'm  going  to  make  it  the  case  of 
my  life!  It  will  be  my  first,  but  I'm  going  to  make 
it  the  greatest  one  of  my  career.  If  I  ever  go  down 
in  history  as  a  big  man,  this  case  will  be  the  great 
one  of  them  all !  " 

The  old  man  was  still  bewildered.  He  moved  away 
slowly  and  pushing  his  chair  up  opposite  Sargent,  sat 
down  and  faced  him,  frankly  studying  his  face,  watch- 
ing the  swift  changes  playing  across  it,  noting  the 
strange,  new  determination  that  was  already  harden- 
ing the  gentle  lines  about  his  mouth.  He  felt  his  own 
heart  suddenly  contract  with  a  sharp  sense  of  disap- 
pointment, for  he  had  hoped  to  keep  this  boy,  by 
means  of  his  influence  and  help,  fresh  and  young  in 
the  battle  of  life;  but  he  saw  now  that  something  had 
forestalled  him;  something  had  already  come  with 
a  blighting  sting. 

He  had  been  quick  to  read  the  sensitive,  imagina- 
tive, capable  nature  of  Sargent  the  first  time  they  had 
clasped  hands.  He  had  seen  the  wonderful  possibil- 
ities that  would  develop  under  the  right  influences  — 
the  remarkable  capacity  for  right  and  wrong,  which- 
ever it  would  be  that  would  tip  the  scales;  and  in 
that  moment  that  the  resemblance  to  his  own  son  had 
struck  him,  he  had  felt  all  the  denied  love  of  a  father 
stir  within  him  and  give  itself  to  the  boy.     After- 


98  THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

wards,  he  had  gone  further  in  his  advances  than  ever 
before  in  his  long  life;  he  had  given  him  the  freedom 
of  his  library,  directing  him  in  the  use  of  books,  even 
preparing  him  for  the  legal  examination  with  his  own 
questions,  which  he  made  more  difficult  than  neces- 
sary. All  the  while  he  had  felt  the  intellectual  joy  of 
watching  a  brilliant  mind  expanding  and  grasping 
new  subjects;  of  looking  far  back  into  the  shadowy 
past  through  the  rich  imagination  of  a  youthful  mind. 
And  with  the  father  love  that  bound  him  to  Sargent, 
was  blended  a  sense  of  pride  that  the  youth  should 
grow  along  by  his  side,  becoming  under  his  tutelage 
the  actual  expression  of  all  the  unrealized  ideals  of 
his  own  life. 

But  something  had  jarred  the  perfect  sympathy; 
some  enemy  was  already  tugging  at  the  cords  that 
bound  them. 

In  the  circle  of  lamplight  lay  a  weather-worn, 
leather  bound  book.  It  had  been  brought  from  Vir- 
ginia on  the  long  pilgrimage  to  the  South,  and  had 
always  been  a  friend  and  a  book  of  comfort.  In- 
stinctively the  old  man's  hand  went  out  and  touched 
it. 

11  It  will  be  a  difficult  case/'  Sargent  heard  him 
saying,  as  if  more  to  himself  than  to  any  listener. 
"  Yes  —  it  is  almost  hopeless.  You  can  not  pos- 
sibly win  it.  I  only  wanted  you  to  have  the 
experience.  It  will  get  you  well  started  before  the 
public." 

"  Why  do  you  say  it  is  hopeless  ?  " 

"  There  is  so  little  evidence.  You  can  not  convict 
a  man  without  proofs." 

"  Is  there  absolutely  nothing  ?  " 


A    DEMAND    OF    HONOUR  99 

"  Oh,  yes,"  the  old  man  answered,  patiently. 
"  There  are  a  few  circumstances.  We  can  go  into 
that  later.  There  is  plenty  of  time.  What  I  want 
to  know  now  is,"  and  he  dropped  his  voice  into  a 
lower  tone,  and  looked  at  Sargent  tenderly,  "  what 
is  troubling  you  ?  Don't  you  care  to  tell  me  ?  "  he 
ended,  with  a  frank  note  of  pleading  in  his  voice. 

Sargent  met  his  look  unflinchingly.  "  I  have  never 
kept  anything  from  you,"  he  began.  "  Why  should 
I  now,  when  you  have  done  so  much  for  me !  Only," 
and  he  hesitated,  with  the  certainty  that  what  he  was 
going  to  say  would  perhaps  alter  their  friendship  for 
ever.  A  feeling  of  restraint  made  him  silent,  and 
with  a  leap  his  thoughts  went  back  to  the  other  man, 
the  Captain,  the  one  who  had  weathered  the  storms 
of  a  pioneer's  life,  and  even  in  his  old  age  was  still 
a  boy.  He  found  himself  longing  for  the  comrade- 
ship and  joviality  of  the  one  who  saw  only  a  desirable 
notoriety  in  fighting  a  duel;  and  yet,  in  the  kaleido- 
scopic varying  of  thought,  he  knew  that  in  a  saner 
moment  he  would  seek  only  the  one  now  before  him, 
for  advice.  The  Captain  represented  to  him  the  ex- 
pression of  untempered  passion,  and  at  this  moment 
that  was  the  one  thing  that  his  nature  demanded. 

In  this  light  the  calmness  of  Judge  Houston  became 
to  him  cold  criticism,  before  which  he  quailed. 

Words  that  might  in  some  way  palliate  his  action 
rushed  to  his  lips,  finding  excuses  that  a  moment  be- 
fore, in  the  absorption  of  his  anger,  he  would  have 
despised. 

"  You  believe,"  he  said  at  last,  in  a  more  controlled 
voice,  "  that  there  sometimes  come  in  a  man's  life 
circumstances  that  rob  him  of  the  faculty  of  reason- 


100        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

ing?  Perhaps  one  incident  that  blots  out  everything 
that  has  gone  before,  leaving  in  its  place  only  one 
absorbing  determination.  You  believe  that,  don't 
you?" 

Judge  Houston  bowed  his  head  silently. 

"  You  believe  too  that  there  are  things  in  life  that 
a  man  must  resent  —  must  resent  even  by  going 
against  all  the  laws  of  God  and  man  —  that  unless 
he  does  resent  them  the  rest  of  his  life  must  be  with- 
out self-respect  and  without  honours.  Then,  if  a  man 
does  not  fight,  life  is  rendered  valueless  to  him,  both 
in  his  own  eyes  and  those  of  the  community,  and 
existence  becomes  a  burden !  At  times  like  these  one 
must  choose  between  two  evils.  I  have  chosen  the 
least  of  the  two." 

"  A  duel !  "  The  old  man  rose  from  his  chair,  and 
paced  the  floor,  his  hands  clasped  behind  him.  "  A 
duel?    With  whom?" 

His  lips  were  twitching  slightly,  and  his  hands  — 
old,  worn  hands,  which  the  years  had  left  drawn  and 
stretched  into  a  thousand  creases,  and  the  sight  of 
which,  clasping  and  unclasping  in  his  nervousness, 
smote  Sargent  with  a  keen,  knifelike  pain,  through 
the  knowledge  that  he  was  causing  the  old  gentleman 
to  suffer  for  his  sake.  He  put  out  his  hand  impul- 
sively, and  grasped  the  other's  when  he  passed  close 
to  him. 

"  Don't  blame  me  —  forgive  me,"  he  said.  "  Don't 
make  it  any  harder  than  it  is  already.  I  believe  in 
my  heart  you  would  have  done  the  same." 

"  Tell  me,  my  boy."  The  Judge's  voice  was  full 
of  sympathy. 

The  torrent  of  words  came  at  last,  and  as  he  told 


A    DEMAND    OF    HONOUR        101 

his  story  Sargent  found  a  relief  that  left  him  weak 
and  exhausted.     The  strain  was  reaching  its  limit. 

"  Ah !  you  don't  blame  me,"  he  ended  brokenly. 
"  I  knew  you  would  not !  " 

With  his  words,  a  reflection  of  the  anger  of  his 
own  eyes  had  sprung  alive  in  the  old  man's.  Judge 
Houston  stood  before  Sargent,  his  hands  gripping  the 
shoulders  of  the  young  fellow  with  an  intensity  of 
sympathy. 

"  Don't  say  any  more,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice  that 
trembled  slightly.  "  I  understand.  I  will  stand  with 
you." 

"  You !  "  Sargent  moved  away  quickly,  and  stood 
staring  at  him.  "You!"  And  then  his  lips  trem- 
bled. The  end  of  his  strength  came,  and  he  threw 
himself  across  the  sofa,  his  face  in  his  hands,  his 
whole  body  shaking  convulsively.  "  It's  more  than  I 
deserve,"  he  said.  "  That  all  this  should  have  come 
to  me  in  one  day  —  this  hatred,  and  Captain  Ment- 
drop's  friendship  —  and  your  —  love.  It  is  too  much 
to  understand." 

The  old  gentleman  stood  a  moment  beside  the  table, 
his  hand  again  on  the  leather  bound  volume.  As  a 
shaft  of  light  penetrated  through  the  open  door,  it 
rested  on  him  a  moment,  concentrating  in  the  beau- 
tiful gentle  eyes,  and  shining  forth,  in  a  deeper,  fuller 
glory. 

He  went  slowly  to  the  sofa  and  sat  down  beside 
Sargent,  his  hand  resting  with  its  peacegiving  power 
upon  the  bowed  head. 

In  a  long  silence  that  followed,  his  lips  were  still, 
but  within  was  a  constantly  repeated  prayer,  "  God 
give  me  the  power  to  lead  him  right.     Give  me  this 


102        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

p0wer  —  if  nothing  else."  Then  aloud,  as  the  voice 
of  his  wife  called  to  them  from  the  dining-room.  "  It 
is  nothing  that  I  am  doing  for  you  —  only  what  I 
would  have  done  for  my  son  —  and  you  have  come  to 
take  his  place." 


CHAPTER    IV 

HIS    FIRST    CASE 

So  the  schoolhouse  was  closed  again  on  the  follow- 
ing Monday,  and  Sargent  rode  into  the  town  to  plead 
his  first  case  before  the  bar. 

In  the  open  square  of  the  town,  set  far  back  in  a 
grove  of  trees,  stood  the  brick  courthouse,  considered 
a  large  building  in  those  days.  In  its  Hall  of  Justice 
was  a  plastered  ceiling  on  which  an  architect  from  the 
old  world  had  fashioned  a  circle  of  hands,  each  with 
its  forefinger  pointing  directly  down  upon  the  heads 
of  those  who  sat  in  judgment. 

Home-seekers,  coming  there  in  an  attempt  to  settle 
hopelessly  involved  land  suits;  destitute,  silent  In- 
dians, squatting  on  the  door  steps  awaiting  the  deci- 
sion of  some  land  agent;  slaves  brought  in  shiploads 
from  the  Bermudas;  even  wealthy  planters  looked 
upon  this  Hall  of  Justice  with  a  certain  awe.  The 
plastered  hands  were  ominous  and  unavoidable;  al- 
ways when  one  looked  at  them  they  were  pointing 
so  directly  at  one  that  it  had  grown  into  a  saying  that 
when  a  man  was  brought  before  the  judges  he  was 
"  beneath  the  pointing  fingers." 

About  the  courthouse  that  day  was  gathered  an 
unusual  crowd,  for  at  such  a  season  of  the  year,  when 
the  fields  must  be  ploughed  and  cotton  planted,  court 
was  never  very  largely  attended. 

103 


104        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

Down  a  long  line  of  hitching  posts  was  almost 
every  conceivable  vehicle,  including  a  huge  prairie 
schooner  filled  with  a  curious  crowd  from  the  Black 
River  country.  Whole  families,  parents,  children, 
slaves,  and  favourite  dogs  were  picnicking  about  the 
square  —  all  had  come  many  miles  to  hear  the  trial 
of  a  man  who  had  made  safety  a  very  uncertain  thing 
for  the  last  five  years. 

Sargent  threaded  his  way  among  them,  unknown, 
yet  feeling  a  greater  responsibility  resting  upon  him 
as  he  saw  this  evidence  of  the  people's  interest.  They 
were  looking  to  him  to  remove  this  murderer  from 
their  midst.  As  he  went  into  the  courthouse,  he  met 
Judge  Houston.  The  old  gentleman  extended  his 
hand,  and  for  a  second  smiled  encouragingly  into 
the  strained  eyes  of  the  young  lawyer. 

"  YouVe  been  overdoing  it,  Sargent,"  he  said 
quietly.  "  You  should  have  rested.  Too  much  read- 
ing of  law  paralyzes  the  brain." 

Sargent  met  his  look  earnestly,  without  the  smile 
that  was  always  so  ready  upon  his  lips. 

"  I  couldn't  sleep,  and  I  had  to  do  something.  I 
believe  I've  read  every  murder  case  on  record." 

"  And  have  you  discovered  a  method  by  which  you 
can  win  this  one?  " 

Sargent's  eyes  glowed  brilliantly  as  he  answered. 
"  Your  doubt  of  me  is  the  greatest  factor  in  forcing 
me  on.  I  don't  know  how  I  shall  do  it,  but  — 
I'm  going  to  make  that  jury  render  a  verdict  of 
guilty." 

The  old  gentleman's  brows  drew  together,  and  he 
shook  his  head  slowly,  letting  his  hand  rest  affection- 
ately on  Sargent's  shoulder. 


HIS    FIRST    CASE  105 

"  I  only  hope  you  will  succeed,  Sargent  —  as  much 
for  the  people's  sake  as  for  your  own.  If  justice  is 
not  meted  out  to  Phelps  by  law,  I  fear  it  will  come 
to  him  through  the  hatred  of  the  people.  Go  now, 
boy  —  do  your  best.  And  remember,  I  have  failed 
many  and  many  a  time,  others  are  failing  continually, 
and  no  one  really  succeeds  until  failure  has  been  his 
tutor.  Good-bye!  Meet  me  when  the  day's  session 
is  over." 

All  through  that  first  day,  which  was  given  over 
to  the  hearing  of  evidence,  Sargent  had  grown  more 
and  more  under  the  conviction  that  if  he  were  to  win 
the  case  it  would  come  from  some  inspiration  which 
had  not  yet  been  given  to  him.  Not  that  he  had  for 
a  moment  given  up  hope,  for  each  time  such  a  thought 
flashed  into  his  mind,  it  was  followed  by  the  thunder- 
ing necessity  for  success.  And  when  Phelps  was 
brought  into  the  room  and  he  could  look  for  the  first 
time  into  the  face  of  the  man  whose  freedom  he  was 
attempting  to  take  from  him,  Sargent  forgot  every- 
thing else  in  studying  the  highwayman's  features. 
In  them  he  had  suddenly  realized  an  aid  to  his  suc- 
cess. 

All  through  the  cross-examination  of  the  witnesses 
he  was  thinking  of  it,  even  to  the  intense  moment  when 
the  two  scraps  of  paper  were  displayed:  one  a  gun 
wadding  found  in  the  house  of  the  murdered  man 
and  the  other  in  the  pocket  of  Jacob  Phelps.  The 
two  pieces  were  from  a  paper  of  the  same  date,  and 
though  not  fitting  into  each  other  were  considered  the 
strongest  evidence  against  the  prisoner.  Besides  that, 
only  the  proximity  of  the  canebrake  where  Phelps  was 


106        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

captured,  and  a  long,  detailed  report  of  his  former 
daring  robberies  were  all  that  he  had  been  able  to 
procure. 

The  weak  point  of  the  evidence  was  that  not  an 
instance  of  murder  could  be  charged  to  Phelps. 
There  had  always  been  a  doubt  of  his  guilt  —  and  in 
this  Jervais  showed  his  strength.  Each  of  his  ques- 
tions led  in  labyrinthine  windings  to  the  end  that 
nothing  had  been  proved  on  the  prisoner.  Indeed, 
those  who  swore  they  recognized  him  were  eventually 
misled  into  the  belief  that  they  were  swearing  to  an 
uncertainty. 

Finally  the  recess  hour  came,  and  in  the  afternoon, 
after  all  the  evidence  had  been  taken,  the  court  ad- 
journed until  the  next  day,  when  the  speeches  for 
the  two  sides  should  be  made. 

Sargent  waited  for  Judge  Houston  outside  the 
courthouse.  He  had  walked  to  one  side  of  the 
grounds  where  he  would  not  meet  the  crowd  of  famil- 
iar faces,  and  be  forced  to  discuss  the  case,  for  already 
he  had  been  quick  to  feel  the  disappointment  that  had 
settled  over  them  after  all  the  evidence  had  been  heard. 
Their  silence  and  lowered  voices  showed  their  fears, 
and  passing  a  group  hurriedly  at  the  recess  hour,  he 
had  heard  a  doubt  expressed  at  Judge  Houston's  wis- 
dom in  appointing  him  to  represent  the  State.  Many 
little  incidents  of  the  day  were  remembered  by  him 
long  afterwards,  which,  in  the  concentration  of  all  his 
energies  at  the  time,  he  had  not  even  been  aware  of. 
All  he  wanted  at  that  moment  was  material  with  which 
to  impress  the  jury  —  material  which  was  lacking  he 
realized  with  a  sickening  dread. 

As  he  stood  under  the  trees  and  faced  the  court- 


HIS    FIRST    CASE  107 

house,  its  brick  walls  glowing  in  the  late  sun,  once 
more  the  prisoner's  face  rose  before  him,  photograph- 
ing itself  indelibly  upon  his  mind.  Each  feature  stood 
out  enlarged  and  vivid;  black  eyes,  bold  and  fearless 
and  insolent,  with  the  surrounding  whites  almost  en- 
tirely red  from  swollen  veins;  a  low  forehead  from 
which  black,  wiry  hair  grew  out,  straight  and  stiff; 
a  long,  aquiline  nose  with  wide  nostrils  in  which 
showed  a  heavy  growth  of  hair ;  heavy  lips,  the  lower 
one  protruding  doggedly,  yet  both  suggesting  a  cer- 
tain generosity  in  their  amplitude;  the  chin  and  side 
of  the  face  covered  with  a  short  beard  which  reached 
far  up  the  cheeks  to  where  pock  marks  glowed  deep 
and  white  against  a  swarthy  complexion.  It  was  a 
face  characteristic  of  daring  and  wild  deeds,  yet  in 
some  lines  about  the  eyes,  inscrutable  and  haunting, 
there  was  something  unconfessed. 

All  through  the  channels  of  Sargent's  imagination, 
set  in  motion  by  this  face,  insistently  colouring  every 
conclusion  reached,  was  the  hidden  characteristic 
about  the  man's  eyes  which  signified  something  which 
he  felt  certain  would  help  him  in  some  way  if  he  could 
find  out  what  it  meant.  In  a  swift  passion  of  futility 
he  pushed  out  his  hands  to  ward  off  the  first  signal 
of  defeat  that  was  steadily  creeping  over  him.  He 
covered  his  eyes  to  keep  out  the  likeness  of  Phelps' 
face  as  it  glowered  down  upon  him  from  the  court- 
house wall.  Was  it  possible  that  he  had  failed  ?  Had 
he  been  too  self-confident?  Was  it  only  hatred  and 
a  desire  for  vengeance  which  had  made  up  the  ingre- 
dients of  his  confidence?  At  the  end  of  each  ques- 
tion stood  the  face  of  Jervais,  and  the  duel  —  after 
that,  another  question.    Finally,  through  the  lengthen- 


108        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

ing  shadows,  he  strolled  back  to  the  broad  steps  and 
waited  Judge  Houston's  coming. 

They  walked  home  in  the  twilight,  the  old  man's 
arm  linked  in  Sargent's,  their  heads  bent  forward  in 
thoughtful  silence. 

"Did  you  look  at  him?  Did  you  see  his  face?" 
Sargent  asked  as  they  turned  the  corner  and  ap- 
proached the  house. 

"  Whose  face?  "  Judge  Houston  looked  up  quickly. 

"  The  man's  —  Jacob  Phelps." 

"Yes  — why?" 

"  Did  you  see  anything  in  it  but  cruelty  —  malig- 
nity—  daring?" 

"  No  —  there  was  nothing  else." 

"  Oh,  but  you  are  mistaken.  There  is  something 
else." 

"What?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I'd  give  half  my  life  to  find  out. 
I  must  find  out  to-night  —  I  will !  " 

Mrs.  Houston  was  standing  at  the  gate  to  welcome 
them,  Natalia  on  her  pony  before  the  block,  both  of 
them  silent  in  their  impatience  to  hear  the  outcome 
of  the  first  day. 

11  You  all  are  bothered !  I  can  see  that  right  now. 
And  such  glum  faces  —  look  at  them,  Natalia,"  Mrs. 
Houston  said  cheerfully,  as  the  two  men  came  up  to 
them.  "  I  declare  you  all  look  as  if  Phelps  was  pros- 
ecuting you,  instead  of  the  reverse !  And  I  have  gone 
to  lots  of  trouble  to  get  up  a  good  supper  for  you  — 
lye-hominy,  some  nice,  fresh  roasted  yams,  and  waf- 
fles! And  here  you  both  look  like  you  wouldn't  eat 
a  mouthful,  and  Natalia  says  she  won't  stay  either!  " 
Mrs.    Houston   sighed   in   much   distress.      "  I   wish 


HIS    FIRST    CASE  109 

sometimes  there  was  no  such  thing  as  law.  It  upsets 
my  dinner  hour  and  my  plans,  and  is  disastrous  in 
lots  of  ways." 

"  So  you'd  rather  have  your  dinner  on  time," 
laughed  Judge  Houston,  "  than  all  the  highwaymen 
in  the  country  in  jail !  "  He  walked  across  the  side- 
walk to  speak  to  Natalia,  leaving  Sargent  and  his 
wife  together. 

"  Is  it  so  bad  ?  "  she  asked  quickly,  her  face  search- 
ing Sargent's  anxiously.  "  Are  you  worried  about  the 
outcome?  " 

"  I  know  I  shall  win !  "  Sargent's  eyes  blazed 
again,  "  but  I  don't  know  yet  how  I  shall  do  it.  If 
I  should  fail  now  —  " 

"  Of  course  you  will  not.  Don't  let  that  enter  your 
thoughts.    Can't  Felix  help  you  ?  " 

"  Not  now,"  Sargent  answered,  his  features  still 
drawn  and  tense.  "  It's  all  with  me  now,  and  I'm 
glad  of  it." 

The  gentle  old  lady  looked  at  the  youth  before  her, 
so  earnest  and  flushed,  her  eyes  clouding  at  the  pos- 
sible disappointment  awaiting  him.  She  had  seen  all 
these  hopes  and  desires  so  often  before,  in  the  days 
long  passed  when  she  and  her  young  husband  had 
started  on  their  long  pilgrimage.  Then,  looking  be- 
yond him,  her  eyes  dwelt  on  Natalia  pensively.  When 
she  spoke  again  her  face  was  brimming  with  cheerful- 
ness. 

"  On  your  way  home,"  she  said  softly,  "  be  very 
good  to  her.  Forget  all  this  worry  and  this  abstrac- 
tion and  talk  to  her.  It  will  do  you  good.  Do  you 
realize  the  place  you  have  taken  in  the  child's  life? 
It  has  made  me  wonder  if  it  was  good  for  her  or  not. 


110        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

Sometimes,"  she  ended,  reflectively,  "  I  wonder  what 
you  have  done  to  gain  her  love  so  —  and  yet,  I  think 
I  know." 

Sargent  glanced  to  where  Natalia  was  leaning  from 
her  saddle  and  talking  intently  with  Judge  Houston. 
For  the  first  time  that  day  the  tenseness  of  his  face 
relaxed,  and  the  memory  of  the  courtroom  and  all 
it  meant  slipped  from  him. 

"  I  believe  I  gained  her  love,"  he  answered  slowly, 
"  by  first  loving  her.  Don't  you  think  that  is  the  only 
real  way  to  gain  another's  love  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  there  are  very  few  who  fail  to  respond  to 
being  loved.  It  is  so  flattering,"  she  smiled  lightly. 
"  But  Natalia  needed  you  just  when  you  came.  You 
know  how  out  of  sympathy  she  and  Mrs.  Brandon 
are?" 

"  That  is  not  to  be  wondered  at.  Could  you  pos- 
sibly find  two  more  opposite  natures  ?  One  —  cool, 
calculating,  and  always  just ;  the  other  —  intense,  wil- 
ful, passionate.  Look  at  her  now!  She's  more  like 
some  little  fairy  who  has  been  lost  from  other  fairies 
than  anything  else  in  the  world.  And  how  old  she 
is  at  times!  I  feel  that  I  am  talking  to  some  one  a 
great  deal  older  than  I  am.  Tell  me,  Mrs.  Houston," 
Sargent  leaned  nearer  on  the  gate  and  his  voice  sank 
to  a  whisper,  "  now  that  she  is  going  away,  how  can 
I  make  her  remember  me?  If  she  were  to  go  away 
and  forget  me  —  " 

"  She  will  not  do  that,  my  dear  boy."  She  pressed 
his  hand  gently.  "  She's  at  the  impressionable  age, 
and  she  loves  you  with  all  her  little,  pent-up  nature. 
She  will  not  forget." 

Sargent  met  her  glance  warmly.     "  You  see,  it  is 


HIS    FIRST    CASE  111 

so  different  with  me,  from  most  men.  My  sensitive- 
ness, my  wretched  infirmity,  seems  to  make  every- 
thing so  much  more  serious  to  me.  And  when  any 
one  gets  hold  of  my  affections,  I  feel  a  tremendous 
need  for  them  always.  That  is  the  way  with  Natalia 
—  it  was  her  sweet  dependence,  her  yearning  for  sym- 
pathy, her  quaint  charm  that  have  bound  me  to  her 
for  ever.  Of  course  she  is  only  a  child  now,"  he 
hesitated  suddenly,  as  if  half  unwilling  to  express  his 
real  feelings,  "  but  if  I  could  have  the  hope  that  she 
would  come  back  to  me  some  day  —  a  woman  loving 
me  as  she  does  now  —  anything  would  be  worth  en- 
during —  for  that !  " 

"  If  you  all  are  going  to  talk  all  the  evening,  I'm 
going  home,"  Natalia  cried,  from  her  pony.  "  And 
I  told  Zebby  I'd  be  home  surely  by  six  o'clock." 

Sargent  hurriedly  mounted  his  horse,  which  had 
been  brought  to  the  gate,  and  waved  a  farewell  to 
Mrs.  Houston.  "  Good-bye,"  she  called  to  them, 
waving  her  handkerchief  as  they  rode  off.  "  I'm 
going  to  hear  you  make  your  maiden  speech  to-mor- 
row.    Good  luck  to  you.    Good-bye,  Natalia." 

It  was  almost  dark  when  Sargent  and  Natalia  left 
the  town  behind  them,  and  through  the  dark  forest 
bordering  the  cotton  fields,  a  feathery  crescent  moon 
floated  up  and  greeted  them.  The  balmy  spring  breeze 
blew  in  their  faces,  and  in  the  Western  sky  still  lin- 
gered the  faint  glow  of  sunset.  The  cabins  were  send- 
ing up  thin  lines  of  white  smoke,  the  delicious  odour 
of  fried  bacon  was  in  the  air,  and  the  sound  of  some 
one  chopping  wood  in  the  distance  gave  a  homely 
touch  of  comfort  to  the  scene.  Completing  the  peace- 
ful holiness  of  the  spring  twilight  came  the  harmonies 


112         THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

of  the  slaves,  singing  as  they  went  home  from  the 
day's  work. 

They  rode  along  in  silence.  Natalia,  dangling  her 
little  bonnet  from  its  green  ribbons,  looked  up  at  Sar- 
gent intently,  but  his  eyes  did  not  answer  hers.  They 
were  bent  on  some  distant  object  that  she  knew  she 
could  never  see,  and  sighing  slightly,  she  resigned 
herself  to  waiting  for  him  to  become  aware  of  her 
presence.  In  her  childlike  adoration,  there  was  suf- 
ficient happiness  in  being  near  him. 

When  the  gate  loomed  before  them  through  the 
vista  of  trees,  Natalia  guided  her  pony  closer  to  Sar- 
gent, until  he  was  forced  to  notice  her. 

"  Aunt  Maria  said  you  were  terribly  bothered,"  she 
said,  when  he  looked  down  at  her  out  of  his  long 
abstraction.  "  Is  that  what  makes  you  so  different  ?  " 
she  ended  plaintively. 

11  Yes  —  that's  it,  Natalia,"  Sargent  answered,  his 
brows  knitted  close  together.  "  It  seems  to  have 
ruined  my  whole  outlook.  I  can't  think  of  anything 
else.  All  the  way  home  I  could  see  nothing  but  that 
man's  face.  I  believe  I'm  beginning  to  lose  hope,  too. 
Would  you  be  sorry  if  Mr.  Jervais  won  the  case  from 
me?" 

Natalia  looked  up  at  him,  drawing  the  pony  to  a 
sudden  standstill  in  her  amazement. 

"  Mr.  Jervais  can't  do  that !  You  wouldn't  let  him ! 
I  hate  him  anyhow !  "  She  clenched  her  little  hand. 
"  Please  don't  let  him  win." 

"  Suppose  I  can  not  help  myself?  Suppose  he 
has  all  the  evidence  on  his  side?  What  can  I  do 
then?" 

"  Well  — "  she  said   slowly,   as   if  attempting  to 


HIS    FIRST    CASE  113 

arrive  at  some  conclusion.  "  Well  —  isn't  Phelps  a 
murderer?  " 

"  Every  one  thinks  so.     But  I  can  not  prove  it." 

"Do  you  think  so?" 

"  Yes,  I  do." 

"  Then,"  with  an  impatient  toss  of  the  head,  "  it's 
just  as  easy  as  can  be.     Make  him  say  it  is  so." 

Sargent  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  heartily 
for  the  first  time  in  many  days.  And  all  the  while 
Natalia  stared  at  him  with  an  expression  that  spoke 
eloquently  surprise  and  wounded  pride. 

"  Well,  you  needn't  laugh  so  much  about  it !  "  she 
exclaimed,  as  Sargent's  amusement  seemed  to  increase. 
"  You  could  make  him  tell  you  if  you  had  a  mind  to. 
Mammy  says  you  have  a  silver  tongue,  and  when 
people  have  that,  they  can  make  other  people  tell  every- 
thing they  know.  I  don't  care  though,  if  you  don't 
make  him  tell,"  she  cried,  the  tears  coming  into  her 
eyes  as  Sargent  continued  laughing.  They  were  at 
the  gate  now,  and  as  he  lifted  her  from  the  pony,  she 
struggled  out  of  his  arms  and  flew  toward  the  house. 
"  I  don't  care  a  picayune  if  you  don't  ever  win  a 
case !  "  she  called  back  to  him  from  the  veranda,  and 
then  slammed  the  door  tight  after  her. 

Sargent  walked  slowly  toward  his  room.  The 
smile  had  gone  from  his  face  now,  and  in  its  place 
was  an  odd,  quickening  expression. 

"  Make  him  tell  you !  "  he  repeated  Natalia's  words 
as  he  unlocked  the  door  of  his  room.  "  Make  him 
tell  you !  "  he  repeated,  as  he  blew  out  his  candle,  hours 
later.  "  Make  him  tell  you !  "  he  repeated  all  through 
that  long,  sleepless  night. 


CHAPTER    V 

MAGNETISM 

The  two  men  faced  each  other,  the  lawyer  at  one 
end  of  the  long  table,  the  prisoner  barely  ten  feet  away, 
in  his  chair  before  the  jury.  The  moment  was  tense. 
Everything  had  been  finished,  even  Jervais'  eloquent 
speech  to  the  jury,  in  which  he  had  cautioned  the 
twelve  men  not  to  let  sentiment  lead  them  to  a  deci- 
sion, but  to  be  guided  only  by  the  evidence  and  what 
had  absolutely  been  proved.  And  now  remained  only 
the  speech  of  the  prosecution,  on  which  rested  the 
hopes  of  every  one  in  the  courtroom. 

Even  the  jury  had  grown  restless  under  the  con- 
tinued want  of  facts  in  the  case.  Their  attitude 
toward  the  prisoner  was  but  a  reflection  of  the  senti- 
ment of  the  townspeople  —  they  feared  the  man  ;  his 
presence  was  a  menace  always  to  be  faced;  they 
wanted  to  be  freed  from  his  disturbing  proximity; 
and  they  wanted  to  feel  that  long  trips  to  neighbour- 
ing villages  would  be  without  the  danger  of  this  high- 
wayman.    In  short  they  wanted  him  dead. 

But  what  they  had  heard  was  not  convicting.  It 
was  impossible,  so  far,  to  render  a  verdict  of  guilty, 
on  what  had  been  shown. 

During  the  silence  that  followed  Jervais'  speech, 
Sargent  rose  from  his  chair,  and  stepped  forward. 
A  wave  of  disappointment  rushed  over  the  courtroom, 

114 


MAGNETISM  115 

for  the  people  had  hoped  to  the  last  that  their  district 
attorney  would  be  able  to  leave  his  bed  and  come  to 
the  rescue,  convicting  the  prisoner  through  the  elo- 
quence they  had  known  for  years.  But  everything 
seemed  in  favour  of  the  prisoner,  every  one  admitted 
that  Jervais  had  made  the  finest  speech  of  his  career, 
and  now  that  their  great  attorney  had  been  substi- 
tuted by  a  youth  who  had  not  even  made  his  first 
speech  before  the  bar,  Phelps'  chances  for  acquittal 
were  depressingly  certain. 

What  could  this  young  lawyer  do?  This  limping, 
Yankee  schoolteacher  who  had  come  South  to  make 
a  living?  What  could  he  do  but  complete  the  fiasco 
of  the  trial?  A  titter  was  heard  at  one  end  of  the 
courtroom,  followed  by  an  outright  laugh,  and  then, 
suddenly,  silence  fell  again  as  a  counter  wave  of  in- 
terest fell  over  the  audience.  Something  in  the  posi- 
tion of  the  two  men  —  the  lawyer  and  the  prisoner  — 
had  claimed  their  attention. 

Sargent,  in  rising,  had  not  faced  the  jury,  but  stood 
perfectly  silent  and  rigid,  his  gaze  riveted  upon  the 
prisoner.  In  his  eyes  was  no  sign  of  fear,  but  a  calm 
watchfulness  of  some  expected  danger.  The  prisoner 
returned  the  look,  his  blood-shot  eyes  keen  and  cat- 
like in  the  intensity  of  the  passion  boiling  back  of 
them.  His  coarse,  unkempt  hair  hung  in  masses  over 
his  forehead,  his  rough  skin  and  uneven  beard  and 
crouching  posture  but  intensified  his  expression  of 
brutality  and  vicious  force. 

The  two  seemed  born  to  be  antagonistic ;  the  abso- 
lute want  of  visible  sympathy  made  the  contrast  im- 
pressive. 

Sargent  put  aside  his  cane  and  steadied  himself  with 


116        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

one  hand  upon  the  table ;  the  other  he  held  half  poised, 
as  if  in  the  act  of  defence,  for  that  morning  a  strange 
story  had  been  whispered  about,  and  during  Jervais' 
speech  it  had  reached  him.  He  had  been  told  that 
Phelps  was  desperate  enough  to  attack  him  even  in 
the  courtroom. 

Then,  with  his  gaze  still  searching  the  blood-shot 
eyes  of  the  prisoner,  he  began  his  speech.  It  took 
the  intent  crowd  of  listeners  several  minutes  to  adjust 
themselves  to  what  was  happening;  then  they  found 
that  the  young  lawyer  was  not  talking  to  them,  nor 
to  the  Judge,  nor  even  to  the  jury.  His  words  were 
directed  only  to  the  man  before  him. 

In  a  low,  clear  voice,  heard  in  every  corner  of  the 
courtroom,  he  was  describing  to  the  prisoner,  in  piti- 
less detail,  the  crime  committed;  painting  vividly  the 
scene  of  the  murder,  the  aged,  respected  planter  lying 
dead  on  the  floor  of  his  room,  a  pool  of  blood  about 
him,  his  belongings  scattered  everywhere,  his  valu- 
ables all  gone.  He  told  of  the  man's  life,  his  char- 
ity, his  good  influence  upon  his  neighbours.  He  de- 
scribed him  at  home,  at  his  evening  meal,  surrounded 
by  a  happy  and  dependent  family;  his  awakening  in 
the  night  to  find  himself  in  the  grip  of  a  brutal  antag- 
onist —  and  at  last,  his  feeble  death  struggle  with  an 
unseen  foe. 

The  words  came  from  his  lips  cold,  crisp,  clear  cut, 
without  feeling,  yet  so  forcibly  were  they  chosen,  so 
short  and  cogent,  that  they  fell  upon  the  ears  of  his 
listeners  like  the  beat  of  a  huge  hammer  upon  marble. 

The  scene  rose  before  the  listeners  with  a  vividness 
that  the  real  one  would  have  lacked,  for  the  wonder- 
ful voice  of  the  young  lawyer  had  set  fire  to  their 


MAGNETISM  117 

imaginations,  and  each  man  saw  through  his  eyes. 
Every  sentence  jarred  like  an  electric  shock.  There 
was  no  attempt  at  eloquence.  Where  was  the  need 
of  it  with  such  a  subject?  And  while  Sargent  was 
unconsciously  inflaming  the  passions  of  the  crowd 
back  of  him,  he  continued  to  gaze  straight  into  the 
blood-shot  eyes  of  the  prisoner  with  all  the  pent-up 
vital  force  within  him.  If  he  could  only  see  the  faint- 
est sign  of  acknowledged  guilt!  That  was  the  thing 
for  which  he  was  searching.     It  had  not  yet  come. 

For  a  moment  his  eyes  wavered,  and  as  if  looking 
for  some  new  inspiration,  he  glanced  through  the  open 
windows  to  where  the  leaves  of  the  trees  were  rus- 
tling in  the  breeze.  He  had  found  the  prisoner  im- 
pervious to  his  words.  It  was  as  if  he  had  not  been 
talking,  so  far  as  any  change  in  the  stolid  features 
showed.  There  must  be  some  other  method  necessary 
to  touch  the  face  of  iron  before  him.  But  he  had 
not  reached  the  limit  of  his  resources  yet  —  no,  not 
by  half. 

He  turned  back  and  faced  the  prisoner,  as  fresh 
and  calm  as  if  all  the  turbulence  of  a  few  moments  ago 
had  not  come  from  his  lips. 

Now  his  eyes  held  no  longer  the  look  of  scorn  and 
antagonism.  They  were  tender,  appealing  and  sad. 
His  voice  softened  and  grew  warm  in  its  tones,  and 
from  him  emanated  that  irresistible  gentleness  that, 
we  are  told,  in  after  years  drew  even  his  enemies  to 
him.  He  was  using  the  utmost  force  of  his  magnetism 
to  draw  a  confession  from  the  man  before  him. 

He  began  speaking  again,  telling  of  the  family  of 
the  man  who  had  been  murdered,  dwelling  with  a 
deep  sympathy  upon  the  young,  fatherless  children, 


118        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

who  had  to  take  up  the  burden  of  life  without  the 
guidance  of  their  parent.  Then,  almost  in  a  whisper, 
and  with  deep  reverence,  he  spoke  of  the  bereaved  wife, 
a  widow  and  a  mother,  a  feeble  woman,  no  longer 
young,  left  alone  to  care  for  the  children,  separated 
from  her  life  partner  and  left  to  finish  her  days  un- 
protected. He  drew  a  telling  picture  of  his  own 
mother,  of  every  man's  mother,  in  a  like  situation. 

There  were  tears  in  the  eyes  of  the  audience  as  they 
listened,  there  were  tears  in  the  eyes  of  the  lawyer,  and 
suddenly,  as  his  words  ended  in  a  faint  whisper,  the 
blood-shot  eyes  of  the  prisoner  shifted  uneasily  and 
were  hidden  for  a  moment  by  the  falling  lids. 

A  quiver  passed  over  Sargent's  slender  figure.  He 
lowered  his  right  hand  from  the  position  of  defence, 
and  placing  it  beside  the  other,  rested  heavily  against 
the  table.  A  sensation  of  utter  weariness  crept  over 
him.  He  could  not  recall  having  felt  so  exhausted 
ever  before.  It  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  used 
the  full  force  of  his  magnetism,  of  which  until  that 
day  he  had  been  in  ignorance.  For  a  second,  over- 
come by  the  new  fatigue,  he  wondered  if  his  power 
would  last.  The  first  signal  of  the  confession  was  held 
in  the  drooping  lids  of  the  prisoner.  Could  he  bring 
the  rest? 

Once  more  he  took  up  the  thread  of  his  speech. 
Phelps  met  his  gaze  no  longer,  even  the  crouching 
position  of  one  ready  to  spring  relaxed,  and  he  sank 
back  into  his  chair  and  gazed  steadily  at  his  hands. 
Sargent  leaned  forward  in  his  intensity,  his  words 
coming  more  rapidly.  He  was  now  dwelling  on  the 
laws  of  his  country,  on  the  need  of  these  laws,  of  the 
rights  of  man  which  must  be  recognized  and  obeyed, 


MAGNETISM  119 

of  the  Christianity  of  civilization,  and  of  the  punish- 
ment of  God.  His  voice  grew  steadily  louder  as  he 
urged  the  murderer  to  repent  before  he  should  reach 
the  great  tribunal  of  God,  where  repentance  would 
be  too  late. 

Still  he  could  gain  no  answer  from  the  man's  down- 
cast eyes.  Within  him  a  voice  grew  louder  and  more 
insistent.  He  felt  the  words  leaving  him  in  a  stream 
of  compelling  force.  Louder  and  louder,  in  the  dead 
silence  of  the  room  they  grew  into  thunderbolts  that 
seemed  to  shake  the  building.  On  and  on  he  went, 
a  great  light  glowing  from  the  depths  of  his  eyes, 
until  by  the  compelling  force  of  his  invectives,  the 
irresistible  power  of  his  magnetism,  the  prisoner 
sprang  from  his  chair  and  faced  him. 

For  an  instant  they  stood  with  only  the  table  sep- 
arating them,  the  accused  man  towering  above  the 
lawyer  in  a  spasm  of  rage.  Then,  sweeping  over  his 
coarsened  features  came  an  expression  of  utter  despair 
and  misery,  his  eyes  grew  lustreless  and  dead,  and 
drawing  from  his  shirt  a  concealed  dirk,  he  threw  it 
from  him  and  lowered  his  face  upon  his  outstretched 
hands. 

No  word  was  spoken,  but  so  completely  did  the 
agony  of  the  man's  face  express  his  confession,  that 
a  shiver  ran  over  the  audience. 

In  the  silence  which  followed  Sargent  stood  with 
folded  arms,  amid  the  naked  passions  of  the  court- 
room. A  few  minutes  later,  when  he  realized  that 
they  were  still  waiting  for  him  to  speak,  he  turned 
towards  the  jury  and  said  slowly: 

44  Gentlemen,  there  is  the  murderer.  Do  with  him 
as  your  conscience  tells  you." 


120        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

He  thought  it  was  several  hours  afterwards,  when 
in  fact  it  was  only  ten  minutes,  that  he  became  aware 
of  his  surroundings.  He  had  sunk  on  the  bench 
after  addressing  the  jury,  and  before  him  had  begun 
to  swim  all  the  fancies  employed  in  his  speech,  and 
in  a  futile  attempt  to  gather  and  separate  them,  as  he 
had  done  before,  he  found  himself  tumbling  from  a 
great  height,  which  his  fast  ebbing  vital  force  made 
irresistible. 

Then  suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  the  turbulence,  he 
felt  the  encouraging  warmth  of  a  friend's  hand,  and 
looking  up,  saw  Judge  Houston's  broad  back  passing 
on  towards  the  jury  room. 

Jacob  Phelps  lay  forward  on  the  table,  his  face 
buried  in  his  outstretched  hands.  Beyond  him  stood 
Jervais,  facing  the  hushed  courtroom,  with  a  counte- 
nance livid  with  fury. 

Turning  to  see  the  cause  of  such  an  expression, 
Sargent  looked  for  the  first  time  into  the  sea  of  faces, 
pale  and  still,  yet  gazing  at  him  with  glowing  eyes 
that  told  him  their  admiration  and  wonder.  He  un- 
derstood their  silence,  and  thrilled  under  the  depths 
of  feeling  that  kept  them  speechless.  In  that  moment 
he  knew  that  the  commencement  of  his  career  was  a 
triumph. 

And  while  he  stood  with  every  nerve  in  his  body 
tingling  responsively  to  his  blind  joy,  the  jury  re- 
entered the  room  and  took  their  seats,  and  Judge 
Houston's  voice  rang  out  loud  and  sonorous. 

"  Jacob  Phelps!   Stand  up!  " 

Phelps  lifted  his  bowed  head,  his  eyes  roving  fur- 
tively over  the  crowd  of  staring  faces.  Moving 
slightly,  with  the  expression  of  one  who  is  dazed  into 


MAGNETISM  121 

semi-consciousness,  he  stared  back  into  the  sea  of 
faces  —  not  one  expression  of  kindness,  of  sympathy, 
of  friendship  for  him  was  in  that  entire  throng.  Then, 
with  the  dull  look  of  one  who  has  relinquished  all 
hope,  he  wheeled  and  faced  the  judge. 

"  Jacob  Phelps,  you  have  been  judged,  and  con- 
victed of  murder  —  the  highest  crime  known  to  the 
laws  of  the  State  of  Mississippi.  Have  you  anything 
to  say,  or  any  reason  to  give  why  the  sentence  of  the 
law  should  not  be  pronounced  upon  you  ?  " 

In  the  breathless  stillness  there  came  a  pause. 
Phelps  did  not  answer.  Again  the  judge's  voice  filled 
the  courtroom. 

"  Then  nothing  now  remains  but  the  performance 
of  my  painful  duty.  The  sentence  of  the  law  and  the 
judgment  of  the  Court  is  that  you  be  taken  hence  to 
the  jail  of  Adams  County,  and  there  safely  confined 
until  Thursday,  the  twentieth  day  of  June,  1833,  when 
between  the  hours  of  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  and 
noon,  you  be  taken  into  the  jail  yard;  and  there,  by 
the  Sheriff  of  this  County,  you  be  hanged  by  the  neck 
until  you  are  dead  —  and  may  the  Lord  have  mercy 
upon  your  soul !  " 


CHAPTER   VI 

TO  BE  HANGED  BY  THE  NECK  UNTIL  DEAD 

"  Everett,  you're  a  wonder,  man."  u  Pick  him  up 
there,  Suggs."  "  Now,  all  at  once!  Lift  him  up!" 
"  Now,  all  together,  we'll  sing,  '  See  the  conquering 
hero  comes! '  "  "  Where  are  we  going?  Oh,  to  the 
Mansion  House,  of  course.  I'm  going  to  set  'em  up 
until  everybody  has  his  fill."  "  Never  heard  a  speech 
until  I  heard  Everett's  to-day." 

Before  he  knew  what  had  happened,  Sargent  had 
been  surrounded  as  he  came  out  of  the  courtroom, 
and  hoisted  to  the  shoulders  of  an  admiring  crowd 
that  was  waiting  for  him. 

The  people  had  gone  wild  in  their  enthusiasm  over 
what  he  had  done  for  them.  On  that  day  he  found 
himself  a  public  man,  at  the  mercy  of  the  whims  of 
the  public,  and  their  whim  at  that  moment  was  to  find 
an  outlet  for  their  admiration. 

They  took  his  cane  away  from  him,  some  one 
grabbed  his  broad  felt  hat  and  replaced  it  with  a  chim- 
ney pot  that  was  not  unbecoming  by  any  means,  and 
then  they  carried  him  on  their  shoulders  to  the  bar 
of  the  Mansion  House,  and  placing  him  on  the  coun- 
ter, made  him  listen  to  their  speeches  of  congratula- 
tions while  the  waiters  plied  every  one  present  with 
more  drinks  than  any  one's  capacity  admitted. 

Captain  Mentdrop  gave  an  eloquent  peroration,  in 

122 


HANGED    BY    THE    NECK         123 

which  he  stated  that  he  was  the  first  one  to  introduce 
the  Honourable  Sargent  Everett  to  the  townspeople, 
who  from  thenceforth  would  give  only  honour  and 
praise  to  his  name.  He  would  have  continued  inter- 
minably if  it  had  not  been  that  others  were  as  anx- 
ious to  claim  that  honour  as  the  Captain.  And  for 
two  hours  the  speech-making  and  jollification  lasted, 
until  every  one  grew  hilarious  over  the  motion  that 
Sargent  be  sent  as  their  representative  to  the  next 
Legislature. 

When  the  excitement  had  reached  its  height,  and 
a  crowd  had  gone  out  on  the  street  to  erect  a  bonfire 
—  no  matter  if  it  were  broad  daylight  —  Sargent  saw 
his  chance  to  get  away  and  slipped  quietly  out  the 
back  door  of  the  tavern  into  a  deserted  street. 

Walking  as  rapidly  as  his  halting  gait  would  per- 
mit, he  traversed  the  streets  where  he  would  hardly 
meet  any  one,  and  came  at  last  to  the  bluff  that  looked 
down  over  the  river.  Pushing  his  way  through  a 
tangle  of  undergrowth,  he  reached  a  place  far  enough 
from  the  town  to  be  secure  from  interruption.  Here 
he  threw  himself  full  length  upon  the  ground,  breath- 
ing hard  from  the  unusual  physical  exertion.  He 
was  utterly  exhausted,  and  covering  his  eyes  with  his 
hands  he  lay  perfectly  motionless. 

When  he  looked  up  again  a  scarlet  sun  was  sink- 
ing into  the  banks  of  dull  grey  clouds,  and  illumin- 
ing weirdly  the  scene  of  river  and  distant  flat  coun- 
try. 

Ah!  it  was  a  relief  to  get  away  from  the  crowd 
of  gaping  faces,  even  if  they  spoke  praise  and  ad- 
miration. And  beyond  that,  he  was  glad  that  the 
courthouse,   with  all  the  associations  which  had  in 


124         THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

one  moment  become  horrible  to  him,  could  not  be  seen 
from  where  he  sat. 

For  a  long  time  he  remained  perfectly  still,  gazing 
out  upon  the  scene  before  him,  seeing  in  it  only  dreari- 
ness and  despair  accentuated  by  the  encroaching  shad- 
ows; and  all  the  time,  as  if  to  keep  out  some  haunt- 
ing sound,  he  pressed  both  hands  over  his  ears. 

And  the  change  had  come  so  suddenly,  so  unex- 
pectedly. Only  a  little  while  before,  flushed  with  the 
pride  of  his  first  success,  the  blood  surging  happily 
through  his  veins,  he  had  waited  with  the  others  for 
the  verdict,  and  as  the  words  rang  out  across  the 
hushed  courtroom,  "  To  be  hanged  by  the  neck  until 
you  are  dead !  "  they  fell  upon  his  overstrained  nerves 
like  an  electric  shock.  Something  within  him  snapped, 
and  in  the  next  moment  he  found  himself  looking 
into  the  miserable,  hopeless  eyes  of  the  prisoner  as 
they  led  him  from  the  room. 

After  that  Sargent  felt  the  buoyancy  and  joy  and 
triumph  slip  completely  away  from  him.  He  was 
aware  of  nothing  but  the  sound  of  those  words,  he 
heard  them  whispered  over  the  courtroom,  he  heard 
them  in  the  congratulations  of  his  friends,  he  heard 
nothing  else  during  the  speech-making  at  the  tavern, 
and  now  he  knew  that  they  had  followed  him  to  his 
retreat  on  the  bluff,  for  he  saw  them  written  in  lurid 
letters  across  the  scarlet  sunset. 

At  first  in  the  chaotic  whirling  of  his  thoughts,  he 
could  not  comprehend  the  strange  effect  upon  him; 
he  could  see  no  reason  for  the  sinister  obsession.  He 
had  gotten  what  he  had  been  concentrating  all  his 
energies  upon  for  the  past  week.  Why  should  the 
outcome  overwhelm  him  in  this  unlooked  for  man- 


HANGED    BY   THE    NECK         125 

ner!  He  puzzled  over  it,  attempting  to  separate  the 
last  expression  of  the  prisoner's  face  and  the  meaning 
of  the  words.  They  were  too  analogous  to  bear  sep- 
aration, and  gradually,  gaining  force  with  its  devel- 
opment, came  to  Sargent  the  terrifying  realization 
that  without  him  the  sentence  would  not  have  been 
pronounced.  A  kindred  thought  followed  —  more 
fearful  than  the  first  —  in  which  he  saw  himself  the 
murderer,  not  the  prisoner  who  had  committed  the 
deed  to  escape  detection,  but  he,  a  lawyer  under  the 
sanction  of  the  laws  of  God  and  man,  committing  the 
same  deed  in  the  name  of  justice  and  righteousness. 
And  so  the  world  would  think  of  him;  but  how  dif- 
ferent he  knew  it  was.  Righteousness  and  justice  had 
not  once  entered  his  thoughts;  only  hatred  and  re- 
venge. Hatred  and  revenge !  He  had  said  them  aloud 
to  himself  at  night,  to  keep  them  from  slipping  out 
of  his  mind  for  even  one  second.  And  now  he  was 
to  be  paid  for  this  deed  with  money,  blood-money, 
as  the  prisoner  had  been  rewarded  with  the  same. 

Where  was  the  difference  ?  Was  not  each  a  taking 
of  life?  Was  not  any  man  whose  life  was  taken  by 
another,  murdered?  Could  there  be  any  need  in  the 
world  great  enough  to  abrogate  that  command  of 
God's  —  "  Thou  shalt  not  kill !  " 

He  rose  from  the  ground,  and  walked  recklessly 
on  into  the  woods  that  crowned  the  bluff.  The  sun- 
set was  gone  now,  and  only  a  misty  twilight  hung 
through  the  vista  of  trees.  A  refreshing  breeze  from 
the  north  brushed  against  his  flushed  face  and  brought 
a  tingle  to  his  feverish  senses.  With  the  exhilaration 
came  an  added  sharpness  to  his  perceptions. 

Argue  as  he  would,  he  could  not  make  himself 


126        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

realize  that  it  was  an  ethical  view  of  the  case  that  he 
was  taking.  He  saw  himself  at  the  outset  of  his  ca- 
reer, with  this  man's  blood  upon  his  hands,  and  in- 
stinctively, with  the  insight  that  comes  in  a  crisis  of 
revulsion,  he  knew  that  no  matter  how  long  he  lived, 
he  would  never  be  able  to  approve  of  capital  punish- 
ment. The  personal  application  was  what  riveted  the 
chains  of  his  conviction.  The  simple  statement  that 
without  his  speech  the  prisoner  would  have  been  free, 
answered  eloquently  all  doubts  and  questions.  It  was 
he  alone,  who  was  to  bring  this  man  to  death;  it  was 
useless  to  evade  the  responsibility. 

"  To  be  hanged  by  the  neck  until  you  are  dead." 
In  a  moment  of  terrifying  excitement  he  spoke  the 
words  aloud,  to  gain  a  better  effect  of  their  signifi- 
cance, and  with  the  sound  of  his  own  voice,  the  words 
received  a  more  intimate  meaning.  Deeper  under 
their  weight  he  sank,  until  it  was  by  a  supreme  effort 
that  he  checked  himself  in  his  mad  striding,  and 
turned  back  toward  the  town.  There  was  some  one 
there,  who  could  surely  show  him  a  new  aspect  of 
the  case,  in  which  he  could  realize  that  the  responsi- 
bility did  not  rest  upon  him  alone.  A  new  thought, 
a  suggestion,  a  word  of  sympathetic  understanding 
would  mean  so  much  to  him  —  but  all  that  praise,  that 
enthusiastic  admiration  so  lavishly  bestowed  upon  him 
because  he  had  made  a  speech  that  would  rob  a  man 
of  his  life!  He  could  not  bear  to  think  of  hearing  it 
again. 

When  he  descended  the  hill  the  lights  were  glowing 
from  the  many  windows  of  the  town,  as  if  a  reflection 
of  the  star-lit  night.  There  were  not  many  doors 
open,  for  the  spring  night  had  suddenly  grown  cool, 


HANGED    BY    THE    NECK         127 

and  the  barred  portals  seemed  to  Sargent  to  look  down 
upon  him  with  an  aloofness  and  withdrawal  that  ex- 
pressed the  attitude  of  the  thinking  world  toward  him. 
If  it  were  not  the  sentiment  of  that  day,  it  would  be 
when  people  came  to  know  and  to  judge  him  from 
the  hidden  motives. 

The  streets  were  dark,  and  as  he  made  his  way 
along  no  sound  broke  the  stillness  save  the  regular 
tap  of  his  cane  upon  the  plank  walk.  With  resolute 
force  and  averted  face  he  passed  the  courthouse,  an- 
other block  beyond  he  passed  the  jail  in  which  the 
prisoner  was  awaiting  his  death,  and  finally,  with  the 
relaxation  that  comes  when  one  realizes  a  haven  has 
at  last  been  reached,  he  got  to  the  open  door  of  Judge 
Houston's  home,  and  looking  through  the  hall  and 
seeing  the  family  at  supper,  he  slipped  quietly  into  the 
library,  and  sat  down. 

The  soft  glow  from  two  candles  on  the  mantel  was 
pleasant  to  his  tired  eyes ;  there  was  just  light  enough 
in  the  room  for  him  to  see  the  things  that  had  become 
familiar  and  dear  to  him.  His  eyes  lingered  longest 
on  the  table  where  a  row  of  books  —  law  books  of 
reference  —  always  stood  in  a  prim,  neat  row.  In 
front  of  them,  more  intimately  handled  and  never  in 
the  same  place,  thereby  showing  the  love  and  use  given 
to  them,  lay  the  three  books  from  which  the  old  gen- 
tleman received  his  greatest  pleasure  —  Shakespeare, 
"  Some  Fruits  of  Solitude,"  and  that  old,  leather 
bound  book,  worn  and  frayed  at  the  corners. 

In  the  centre  of  the  table  lay  the  thick  portfolio  of 
pigskin,  beside  it  several  newly  cut  quills,  and  to  one 
side,  laid  by  for  the  evening,  rested  the  gold  snuff-box. 

Sargent's  glance  lingered  affectionately  upon  each 


128        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

article,  reluctantly  falling  at  last  upon  the  two  notes 
addressed  to  himself,  which  were  placed  conspicuously 
on  the  table.  One  he  knew  by  its  heavily  embossed 
envelope,  its  green  seal,  and  the  lustre  of  the  ink  with 
which  it  was  addressed.  Tearing  it  open  indifferently, 
he  started  up  in  surprise,  not  expecting  so  sudden  a 
culmination  of  the  difficulty.  Jervais  had  requested 
him  to  meet  him  at  daybreak  of  the  next  day  —  if 
it  were  convenient.  "  Of  course  it  is  convenient,"  he 
murmured  half  aloud,  "  only,"  and  his  thoughts  raced 
back  to  the  problem  of  that  day. 

He  turned  to  the  other  message,  a  coarse  piece  of 
paper  folded  over  twice  and  addressed  to  him  in  a 
barely  legible  script.  He  unfolded  this  with  a  keener 
interest  than  the  other,  and  leaning  forward  so  the 
candle  light  would  aid  him  in  deciphering  the  words, 
he  read : 

"Will  you  come  to  see  me?  I  want  to  tell  you 
something.  Jacob  Phelps." 

He  held  the  paper  a  long  time  in  his  hands,  finger- 
ing it  after  his  eyes  no  longer  read  the  words,  and 
gradually,  over  his  tortured  senses,  drifted  a  feeling 
of  peace  and  hope  and  joy.  At  last,  under  the  full 
realization  of  the  opportunity  that  had  come  to  him, 
he  settled  back  in  his  chair  and  closed  his  eyes. 

In  this  attitude  Judge  Houston  found  him  when  he 
entered  the  library.  The  old  man  did  not  extend  his 
hand,  nor  for  a  few  moments  did  he  say  anything, 
having  learned  to  read  the  young  face  before  him  like 
an  open  book,  and  knowing  that  any  words  except 
those  spoken  by  Sargent  himself  would  be  irrelevant 


HANGED    BY    THE    NECK         129 

at  that  moment.  Instead,  he  took  down  a  long  Ger- 
man pipe  with  a  china  bowl,  from  the  mantel  shelf, 
and  filling  it  with  tobacco,  seated  himself  comfortably 
in  a  chair  and  crossed  his  legs ;   silent,  all  the  while. 

Finally  Sargent  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  at  the 
old  man  without  speaking.  At  last  the  words  came, 
trembling  slightly  from  his  intensity. 

"  Did  you  ever  convict  a  man  for  murder?  " 

The  corners  of  the  old  man's  mouth  twitched;  he 
was  so  certain  that  would  be  the  question.  In  answer 
he  only  nodded. 

"  And  was  the  man  hanged  ?  " 

He  nodded  again. 

Sargent's  voice  rose  to  a  higher  pitch  and  broke 
harshly. 

"  How  could  you  let  it  be  done,  and  have  any  peace 
afterwards?  " 

The  old  man  laid  his  pipe  aside  and  came  toward 
the  table,  sitting  down  opposite  Sargent. 

"  I  found  out  that  I  was  in  the  right.  That  the 
man  should  have  been  hanged  —  that  it  was  my  duty 
to  see  that  punishment  was  inflicted  upon  him.  Any- 
thing else  would  have  been  an  evasion  of  my  duty,  — 
a  greater  sin  than  I  at  first  imagined  the  other  was. 
I  know  what  you  are  feeling  at  this  moment.  Every 
man  who  has  a  conscience  and  a  reverence  for  God 
and  has  chosen  criminal  law  for  his  profession  goes 
through  your  experience.  There  are  so  many  sides 
to  the  situation  —  I  doubt  if  you  have  thought  of  but 
one." 

Sargent  moved  impatiently  in  his  chair.  His  fin- 
gers were  thumping  nervously  on  the  table  all  the  time. 

"  Tell  me  the  other  side  —  I  can  see  only  one." 


130        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

The  old  man  leaned  forward  and  met  his  eyes  in- 
tently. 

"What  do  you  see?" 

"  '  Thou  shalt  not  kill/  " 

Felix  Houston  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  putting 
out  his  hand,  drew  the  old  Bible  toward  him.  Placing 
it  on  his  knees,  he  turned  the  pages  with  the  familiarity 
of  one  who  knew  what  was  written  on  every  one.  At 
last  he  held  down  a  page,  and  ran  his  fingers  across 
it,  smoothing  out  the  crumpled,  folded  edge.  "  Lis- 
ten," he  said,  raising  his  eyes  to  Sargent's  for  a  mo- 
ment. "  There  are  other  commands  in  here,  too.  Read 
here  —  Genesis  —  '  Whoso  sheddeth  man's  blood,  by 
man  shall  his  blood  be  shed,'  and  in  Exodus,"  the 
pages  turned  quickly,  "  '  He  that  smiteth  a  man,  so 
that  he  die,  shall  be  surely  put  to  death/  and  Leviticus, 
'  Breach  for  breach,  eye  for  eye,  tooth  for  tooth,' 
and  later,  in  the  words  of  Jesus,  recorded  by  Mat- 
thew, *  All  they  that  take  the  sword  shall  perish  with 
the  sword.'  Is  not  that  enough  ?  "  He  laid  down  the 
book,  and  met  Sargent's  glance  again.  "  You  see 
now  there  are  reasons  for  man  making  laws  with 
which  the  life  of  a  murderer  can  be  taken.  It  is  the 
command  of  God.  It  is  His  law  given  to  us  for  self- 
protection." 

Sargent  shook  his  head  wearily. 

"  Vengeance  is  mine,"  he  quoted  slowly,  in  re- 
sponse. "  With  that,  I  see  no  reason  for  this  law  of 
man's.  Why  should  we  judge?  Why  should  we 
decide  that  a  man  has  no  right  to  live  ?  '  Thou  shalt 
not  kill,'  is  the  word  spoken  by  God.  There  is  no 
evasion  of  it  —  I  can  see  only  that  one  interpretation. 
It  is  final  to  me  in  its  brevity.     It  embraces  every- 


HANGED    BY   THE    NECK        131 

thing.  If  Phelps  is  hanged,  it  will  be  the  same  as  if 
I  had  killed  him  myself,  alone  and  unaided.  The  law- 
back  of  it  means  nothing  to  me.  If  he  is  hanged  I 
will  be  a  murderer." 

Sargent  crouched  back  in  his  chair  as  if  to  escape 
the  physical  punishment  his  thoughts  inflicted  upon 
him.  The  disappointment  caused  from  the  old  man's 
failure  to  bring  him  any  comfort  intensified  the  de- 
spair into  which  he  had  sunk. 

"  Think  a  moment,  Sargent,"  Judge  Houston  said, 
attempting  a  new  line  of  persuasion.  "  Think  of  the 
good  you  have  done  the  people  by  removing  such  a 
danger  from  them.  That  should  be  palliation  enough 
to  relieve  you  of  any  responsibility.  Their  gratitude 
to  you  is  wonderful!  Do  you  know,  they  want  to 
show  it  in  some  lasting  form ;  there  is  already  a  move- 
ment on  foot  to  send  you  to  the  Legislature,  and  if 
you  accept  it,  I  know  you  will  be  elected.  Boy !  you 
don't  realize  that  your  success  has  been  made.  Cheer 
up!  Open  your  eyes  to  your  opportunities.  There 
are  not  many  who  make  the  start  you  have."  Judge 
Houston  grew  more  and  more  enthusiastic  as  he  con- 
tinued. "  I  had  no  idea  that  you  could  win  that  case. 
I  only  appointed  you  to  give  you  the  experience.  But 
you  have  shown  your  genius.  That  speech  has  made 
your  start  a  triumph." 

Sargent  watched  his  enthusiasm  coldly.  A  gulf 
of  misunderstanding  seemed  to  be  widening  between 
him  and  his  old  friend  to-night  —  a  gulf  in  which 
their  sympathy  of  the  past  months  was  counted  as 
nothing.  Of  all  the  people  in  the  world  Felix  Houston 
was  the  one  Sargent  had  expected  to  understand  him 
in  this  trial.    His  disappointment  grew  almost  unbear- 


132        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

able  when  he  heard  praise  also  coming  from  his 
friend's  lips. 

"  A  triumph,"  he  murmured  sadly.  "  What  is  a 
triumph  when  its  gain  means  the  sacrifice  of  a  man's 
life?" 

"  Have  you  thought  of  the  lives  you  have  probably 
saved  by  removing  this  dangerous  man  from  the  coun- 
try?   That  should  help  you  a  little." 

"  Was  he  so  harmful  ?  Had  he  killed  any  one  be- 
fore?   There  seemed  no  proof  of  it." 

"  Did  you  not  prove  that  he  had  killed  one  man  ? 
Is  that  not  enough  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  prove  anything  —  legally." 

Felix  Houston's  brows  drew  together  slowly.  It 
was  a  signal  of  the  end  of  his  patience. 

"  What  did  you  do  then,  Sargent  ?  " 

"  I  played  a  trick  on  him  —  the  meanest,  lowest, 
most  dastardly  trick  one  man  ever  played  on  another. 
There  wasn't  any  law  in  it.  I  set  myself  to  work  on 
the  man's  sympathies;  I  studied  his  face  all  that  first 
day  in  the  courtroom,  hunting  for  the  vulnerable  point 
in  which  to  attack  him.  All  that  day  I  could  see  noth- 
ing else  but  his  face,  yet  I  could  not  find  what  it  was 
that  was  there,  that  I  did  not  recognize.  And  when 
I  rode  home  that  evening  with  Natalia,  I  was  telling 
her  about  the  case,  and  how  hopeless  it  seemed,  and 
what  do  you  suppose  she  told  me  to  do?  The  very 
thing  that  I  did  —  make  the  man  confess,  himself! 
She  said  that  I  could  do  that  if  I  wanted  to.  All  that 
night  I  lay  awake,  thinking  and  thinking  of  how  I 
could  persuade  the  man  to  tell  his  secret.  I  kept  re- 
peating it  to  myself  all  through  the  long  hours  that 
I  would  make  him  tell,  seeing  his  face  before  me, 


HANGED    BY    THE    NECK         133 

always  with  that  inscrutable  expression  that  meant 
that  there  was  a  vulnerable  point.  I  must  find  it,  I 
kept  on  saying.  I  must  find  it !  Then  I  thought  out 
my  speech,  realizing  as  I  went  over  it,  that  if  I  went 
into  every  detail  of  the  murder,  that  somewhere  in 
the  recital  I  would  find  the  spot  in  the  man's  nature. 
I  found  it  —  you  know  when.  He  has  a  mother.  I 
made  him  think  of  her!  After  the  first  admission  of 
my  power  I  knew  I  had  the  man  in  my  hands.  It  was 
all  very  easy  after  that.  But  it  was  not  law,  you  must 
admit  that.  It  was  playing  upon  sentiments  that  are 
sacred  to  every  human  being.  I  took  that  advantage 
of  him  while  he  was  held  before  me  —  forced  to  listen. 
He  couldn't  escape  my  words.  I  forced  them  into  his 
brain.  I  drove  all  the  vital  force  that  was  in  me  into* 
that  man's  conscience,  and  made  him  speak  out.  He 
could  not  help  it  —  he  was  powerless.  But  that  is 
not  law,  I  say.  I  have  no  right  to  send  him  to  the 
gallows  on  such  a  confession.  You  should  have  seen 
that  —  you  will  now,  I  know.  It  rests  with  you  to 
help  me  make  my  reparation.  I  used  this  man  to  fur- 
ther the  gratification  of  revenge.  I  would  not  have 
gone  into  the  case  with  such  vehemence  if  the  defeat 
of  Jervais  had  not  been  back  of  it.  Oh,  you  do  see, 
then!  The  sin  of  it,  don't  you?  But  it  is  true  — 
every  word  of  it.  I  am  keeping  back  nothing  from 
you.  You  have  told  me  that  you  loved  me  almost 
as  much  as  you  did  your  son,  and  you  know  that  I 
have  returned  that  feeling,  aye,  more  than  I  ever  loved 
the  man  who  created  me  only  continually  to  wound 
me !  Will  you  prove  to  me  that  your  love  is  as  great 
as  you  say?  Will  you  grant  me  one  request  that  will 
mean  everything  to  me  ?  " 


134        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

With  his  growing  excitement,  Sargent  rose  from 
the  chair  and  placed  both  hands  on  Judge  Houston's. 
The  old  man  met  his  wild,  beseeching  look  calmly. 
He  knew  now  that  he  was  brought  face  to  face  with 
a  situation  that  might  end  disastrously,  but  he  did  not 
shirk  it.  He  was  calmer  than  he  had  ever  been  in 
his  life. 

"  I  will  grant  you  any  request  —  if  it  is  right,  and 
in  my  power." 

Sargent  took  a  long  breath,  though  not  yet  one 
of  relief.  When  he  spoke,  the  words  came  in  a  whis- 
per, as  if  he  feared  an  eavesdropper. 

"  Release  Jacob  Phelps !  " 

For  twenty  seconds  the  old  copper  faced  clock  on 
the  mantel  ticked  off  the  time  loudly  in  the  silent 
room.     Then  Felix  Houston  spoke. 

"  It  is  not  in  my  power,  and  even  if  it  were,  I 
would  not  set  at  liberty  a  man  whose  depredations  and 
robberies  have  hung  over  this  country  for  ten  years. 
You  have  asked  me  too  much,  Sargent.  Go  home 
and  think  this  matter  over,  and  when  you  are  calmer, 
more  yourself,  you  will  see  the  exaggerated  view  you 
are  taking.  In  the  morning  you  will  see  everything 
differently.  Your  responsibility  in  the  case  will  have 
passed  from  you  entirely,  and  you  will  see  it  through 
the  eyes  of  a  sane  man  —  you  are  hardly  that,  now." 

"  In  the  morning  may  be  too  late  to  think  of  any- 
thing/' Sargent  answered  hurriedly,  handing  him  Jer- 
vais'  challenge. 

Judge  Houston  read  it  at  a  glance  and  handed  it 
back  to  him. 

"  Is  that  the  note  that  was  sent  here  ?  I  left  it  on 
the  table." 


HANGED    BY    THE    NECK         135 

"  Yes.     May  your  man  take  my  answer  ?  " 

"Of  course.     When?" 

And  without  answering,  Sargent  wrote  a  few  lines 
at  the  table,  and  folding  the  paper  carefully  and  seal- 
ing it,  handed  it  to  the  slave  who  was  already  waiting 
at  the  door. 

When  the  man  was  gone  and  they  were  alone  again, 
Sargent  stretched  out  his  hands  and  grasped  Judge 
Houston's. 

"Won't  you  grant  me  that  request?"  he  said,  an 
expression  of  pitiful  yearning  in  his  eyes.  "  It  may 
be  my  last.  I  should  not  mind  dying  if  I  knew  the 
man  were  free,"  he  added  tentatively. 

"  Anything  else  in  the  world,  Sargent,"  the  old  man 
answered  brokenly.  "  Anything  else  I  would  do  for 
you." 

"  There  is  nothing  else  that  matters,"  Sargent  an- 
swered dryly,  turning  away  and  reaching  for  his  hat. 

"  You  will  come  for  me  in  the  morning  —  at  what 
time?" 

Judge  Houston  rested  against  the  table,  watching 
Sargent's  every  movement  intently. 

"  At  four  o'clock.  The  sun  rises  at  five  now.  I 
will  make  all  arrangements  with  the  ferry  man  to  take 
us  over  to  the  Louisiana  side."  He  stopped  abruptly 
and  looked  at  the  old  man  standing  as  firm  and  as 
steady  as  a  piece  of  granite.  "  Somehow  I  feel  the 
incongruity  of  you  going  with  me  more  forcibly  now 
than  ever.  Won't  it  tell  against  you  ?  Won't  it  cause 
some  loss  of  dignity  to  your  position  ?  You  said  you 
had  always  disapproved  of  duels.  It  is  too  much  that 
you  are  giving  up  for  me.  It  may  be  that  I  shall  pass 
out  of  your  life  to-morrow,  and  for  the  few  months 


136        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

that  we  have  been  together  —  it  seems  too  much.  I 
know  I've  disappointed  you  —  some  day  perhaps  you'll 
understand  my  reasons.  Somehow,  though,  I  couldn't 
help  it  —  I  must  be  deformed  in  mind  as  in  body !  " 

The  old  gentleman  made  a  step  toward  him,  and 
steadied  Sargent's  trembling  figure  with  his  firm  arms. 

"  When  you  hear  what  I  have  done  to-night,"  he 
continued,  brokenly  evading  the  keen  blue  eyes  bent 
upon  him,  "  I  believe  you  will  understand." 

Felix  Houston  drew  Sargent  closer  to  him.  His 
firm  arm  was  about  the  young  fellow's  shoulders,  and 
he  was  reading  his  face  intently  for  some  meaning 
to  the  last  words. 

"  Sargent,  boy  —  look  at  me  —  what  do  you 
mean  ?  " 

Suddenly  Sargent  straightened  himself  and  an- 
swered the  other's  look  firmly. 

"  I  don't  know  yet.  I  haven't  quite  decided.  I 
shall  be  back  here  at  four  o'clock." 


CHAPTER   VII 

ONE    MEANS   OF   ESCAPE 

Outside  the  night  shone  clear  and  brilliant.  Sar- 
gent stopped  when  he  had  passed  out  into  the  street, 
and  looked  up  through  the  canopy  of  leaves  to  where 
a  stretch  of  heavens  glowed  with  the  impenetrable 
purple  of  the  night.  Across  the  infinitude  of  space  a 
brilliant  star  suddenly  shot,  leaving  a  trail  of  white 
fire  in  its  wake.  He  stood  there  a  few  minutes,  his 
face  uplifted  to  the  calm  beauty  of  the  sky,  his  lips 
moving  in  prayer. 

When  he  began  walking  again  a  strange  quiet  had 
settled  over  all  his  features  and  in  his  eyes  burned  the 
light  of  determination. 

He  walked  rapidly,  for  though  the  moon  had  not 
yet  risen,  the  night  was  brilliant  with  the  beautiful, 
translucent  light  of  the  stars.  The  dwellings  were 
dark,  not  a  light  glowed  in  a  window;  the  town  had 
sunk  into  deep  slumber. 

He  stopped  at  the  tavern  long  enough  to  write  a 
few  words  to  Captain  Mentdrop  about  the  duel,  and 
once  more  hurried  out  into  the  night. 

He  passed  the  courthouse  again.  This  time  he  did 
not  quail,  or  pass  it  with  averted  eyes,  but  looked  at  it 
with  the  expression  of  one  who  gives  thanks  to  some- 
thing which  has  shown  him  the  right  path,  be  it  ever 
so  hard  and  narrow  to  traverse. 

137 


138        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

Walking  on,  he  stood  at  last  before  the  small  jail. 
It  was  a  one  story  brick  building  in  which  the  sunken 
bars  across  the  windows  shone  sombrely  in  the  clarity 
of  the  night.  Beyond  its  suggestion  of  imprisonment, 
there  was  a  deeper  and  more  lasting  effect  of  utter 
dreariness  and  despair,  for  the  building  stood  on  a 
plot  of  ground  in  which  neither  a  tree  nor  a  shrub 
grew. 

Without  a  moment  of  hesitation  Sargent  went  up 
the  path  to  the  door,  and  lifted  the  heavy  knocker. 
Its  report  rang  out  on  the  quiet  night  like  some  death 
signal,  reverberating  within,  seemingly  an  hundred 
times.  Then  came  the  heavy  steps  of  the  keeper,  the 
sound  of  huge  bolts  sliding  out  of  fastenings,  the  clang 
of  a  chain,  and  at  last  Sargent  stood  within  the  dimly 
lit  corridor. 

"  Jacob  Phelps  sent  for  me.  Is  it  possible  for  me 
to  see  him  now  ?  "  he  said  rapidly,  striving  in  vain  to 
hide  his  anxiety. 

The  jailer  held  his  lantern  close  to  Sargent's  face, 
and  inspected  him  slowly. 

"Have  you  an  order  from  the  sheriff?  "  he  asked. 

"No." 

"  It's  against  rules.    I  can't  let  you  in." 

"  I  know  it  is  irregular,  but  this  is  my  only  chance 
to  see  him.  I  am  going  away  early  in  the  morning. 
I  only  want  to  speak  a  few  words  with  him.  My  name 
is  Sargent  Everett  —  " 

"  The  lawyer  that  made  the  speech  to-day !  "  the 
jailer  exclaimed.  "  Well,  sir,  it's  an  honour  to  know 
you.  I  never  heard  tell  of  a  speech  like  the  one  you 
made,  sir.    No  wonder  Phelps  wanted  to  see  you." 

Sargent  turned  away  quickly  to  hide  the  look  of 


ONE    MEANS    OF    ESCAPE        139 

suffering  on  his  face.  Was  he  never  to  hear  the  end 
of  that  speech !  Would  it  go  down  to  the  grave  with 
him!  Suddenly  he  remembered  his  words  to  Judge 
Houston  —  "  It  will  be  the  speech  of  my  life."  Ah ! 
verily  it  was  so ! 

"  Will  you  let  me  see  him?  "  he  asked  again. 

"  Well  —  "  the  fellow  debated.  "  I  reckon  it'll  be 
all  right  since  it's  you,  Mr.  Everett.  But  it's  against 
rules,  you  know." 

He  led  the  way  down  the  corridor,  Sargent  fol- 
lowing him  closely.  At  the  far  end,  the  jailer  turned 
toward  him,  eying  his  slight  figure  and  halting  gait 
deprecatingly. 

"  Shall  I  leave  the  door  open  and  wait  for  you  out 
here?  He's  a  mighty  tough  customer  —  at  least  he 
was,  up  to  to-day.  He's  been  as  quiet  as  a  lamb  since 
they  brought  him  back  from  the  courthouse.  I  don't 
know  if  you'll  be  safe  in  there  with  him,  for  he's  lots 
bigger  than  you.  He  might  take  a  notion  to  hurt 
you." 

Sargent  moved  to  the  door  impatiently.  "  I  do  not 
fear  him,  and  you  need  not  wait  at  the  door.  Bar  it 
on  the  outside,  and  do  not  come  until  I  call  for  you. 
Now  —  let  me  in." 

The  jailer  put  his  hand  on  the  bolts  —  then  hesi- 
tated. 

"  Here  —  I  have  it.  Put  this  pistol  in  your  pocket 
—  so  —  and  you  can  keep  him  at  a  safe  distance. 
Don't  let  him  see  it  unless  he  comes  at  you  —  it's 
as  much  as  my  place  is  worth.  There  you  are  — 
now ! " 

The  bolt  slid  back,  the  chain  fell  to  the  floor,  and 
Sargent  passed  through  the  opened  door. 


140        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

The  room  was  small,  its  whitewashed  walls  giving 
out  a  dank  odour.  A  narrow  bunk,  a  table  and  chair 
were  the  only  furnishings.  One  window,  covered  with 
bars,  let  in  the  light  of  the  brilliant  sky  dotted  with 
innumerable  stars.  At  the  table,  scribbling  on  some 
coarse  paper  in  the  feeble  glow  of  a  candle,  sat  the 
prisoner  —  Jacob  Phelps. 

He  looked  up  as  Sargent  entered;  then,  as  if  slowly 
recognizing  him,  he  rose  from  the  table  and  stood 
looking  at  him  with  the  dull  expression  which  had 
come  into  his  eyes  during  the  trial. 

"  So  you've  come,  have  you  ?  I  kinder  thought  you 
would." 

Sargent  met  his  glance  steadily.  "  You  said  you 
wanted  to  see  me." 

Suddenly  Phelps  moved  to  the  door  and  tried  the 
bolt.  It  was  barred  securely.  Then  he  moved  back 
quickly  and  stood  close  to  Sargent,  catching  hold  of 
both  his  arms. 

"  D'you  know  they've  locked  you  in  here  with  me  ?  " 
He  began  laughing  easily  to  himself.  "  You  can't  get 
out,  any  more'n  I  can.  You're  in  my  power  now  like 
I  was  in  yours  this  morning."  His  fingers  sank  into 
Sargent's  flesh  with  a  grip  of  iron,  his  eyes  suddenly 
grew  brilliant,  his  breath  came  hard  and  hot  in  the 
young  fellow's  face.  "Suppose  I'd  kill  you  now! 
Wouldn't  it  be  fair?  You've  had  your  chance!  This 
is  mine !  You  baby  —  I  could  wring  your  neck  as 
easy  as  a  chicken's."  He  stopped  abruptly  and  stared 
into  Sargent's  face  searchingly. 

The  silence  deepened.  Sargent's  eyes  met  the  oth- 
er's unflinchingly.  The  pain  of  Phelps'  grip  came  as 
a  great  relief  to  his  mental  agony. 


ONE    MEANS    OF    ESCAPE        141 

"  Well,  what  have  you  got  to  say  for  yourself  ? 
Why  shouldn't  I  do  it?" 

"  It  is  your  right,"  came  Sargent's  low  answer. 

Phelps'  fingers  loosened  their  hold. 

"  Humph !    So  you're  not  afeard  of  me !  " 

"  No  —  not  now  —  after  to-day." 

"  'Cause  you  convicted  me  you  think  I'm  harm- 
less—eh?" 

"  No  —  because  I  found  the  good  in  you." 

Again  Phelps  stared  at  him  hard  while  the  light 
died  gradually  out  of  his  eyes.  His  hands  slipped 
down  Sargent's  arms  slowly  until  one  stopped  sud- 
denly on  the  pistol  the  jailer  had  thrust  into  his  pocket. 
In  a  second  he  had  both  arms  about  Sargent,  and  had 
grabbed  the  pistol  in  his  hand. 

"  So  you's  not  afeard  of  me,  eh,  you  damn  liar. 
Yet  you  carry  this !  "  holding  up  the  pistol  for  inspec- 
tion in  the  candle  light.  "  Six  chambers  and  all  of 
'em  loaded,"  he  ended,  breaking  the  gun  back  into 
place. 

"  It  is  not  mine.  The  jailer  put  it  in  my  pocket 
as  I  entered  here.    I  never  carried  one  in  my  life." 

Phelps  looked  at  him  doubtfully.  "  Well  —  I  be- 
lieve you,"  he  said  thoughtfully.  "  But  I'm  glad 
you  brought  it.    It's  a  damn  good  thing  you  did !  " 

Sargent  started.     "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Never  you  mind  —  I'll  tell  you  later."  He  laid 
the  pistol  well  out  of  Sargent's  reach  and  came  back 
before  him,  folding  his  arms,  and  looking  down  on 
him  with  a  new  expression  —  a  look  that  seemed  to 
express  a  certain  contentment.  "  D'you  know  why  I 
sent  for  you?    I  wanted  to  thank  you." 

Sargent's  lip  quivered.     "For  sentencing  you?" 


142        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

"  No  —  for  opening  my  eyes." 

Sargent  looked  up  and  saw  the  huge  man  of  fifty 
years  standing  before  him,  suddenly  timid,  with  his 
great,  roughened  hand  outstretched. 

"You  ain't  afeard  to  take  it  —  is  you?  It's  jest 
the  hand  of  a  man  who's  goin'  to  die  soon.  It  can't 
do  you  no  harm  and  it'll  do  me  a  mighty  lot  of  good." 

Sargent  made  a  step  forward,  and  grasped  the  wait- 
ing hand. 

"  Can  you  ever  forgive  me  for  taking  your  life?  " 
he  murmured  unsteadily,  a  spasm  of  suffering  con- 
tracting his  features. 

For  a  moment  the  ruffian  looked  down  at  him,  puz- 
zled, then  gave  a  quick,  coarse  laugh. 

"  Is  that  what's  hurting  you  ?  Well  —  it  ain't  hurt- 
ing you  half  as  bad  as  it's  hurting  me  —  nohow. 
You've  done  me  heaps  of  good  —  youngster."  He 
still  held  Sargent's  hand  in  his  iron  grip,  "  and  some 
day  you're  goin'  to  be  a  big  man.  I  could  tell  that 
by  the  sound  in  your  voice  when  you  was  speaking 
to-day.  That's  what  got  under  my  skin.  It's  jest 
as  sweet  as  a  woman's  and  then  again  it's  as  hard  as 
the  devil's.  Damn  if  I  wouldn't  like  to  hear  you  make 
another  speech !  "  He  laughed  grimly.  "  But  look 
here,"  with  a  quick  movement  and  a  glance  at  the 
pistol.  "  I  sent  for  you  to  tell  you  somethin'.  Sit 
down  thar  in  that  chair.  I'm  goin'  to  stand  up  — 
tired  of  sittin'  down  anyway." 

The  huge  man  swung  one  leg  over  the  end  of  the 
table,  and  looked  down  into  the  face  of  the  lawyer 
with  eyes  softened  by  an  expression  of  bygone  tender- 
ness—  the  look  Sargent  had  been  searching  for  so 
long.    It  thrilled  him  now  as  he  saw  it  so  clearly. 


ONE    MEANS    OF    ESCAPE         143 

"  As  I  said  —  you're  goin'  to  be  a  big  man  some 
day,  and  you  wants  to  begin  right  now.  You  don't 
want  to  hurt  people,  sonny  —  I  can  see  that  in  your 
face." 

Sargent's  lips  opened  to  answer,  but  no  words  came. 
It  was  when  he  nodded  that  the  big  man  continued. 
"  So  make  up  your  mind  right  now  that  you  ain't  goin' 
to  send  any  more  men  to  the  gallows.  Send  'em  to 
prison  for  life  —  that's  all  right  —  that  gives  'em  a 
chance  to  show  people  if  there's  anything  good  in  'em. 
But  when  you  kills  'em  you  cuts  off  all  their  chances 
of  doin'  better.     Ain't  I  right?  " 

Again  Sargent  nodded  silently. 

"  Now,  take  me ;  I  never  knowed  until  to-day  that 
I  could  have  lived  the  right  sort  of  life  like  any  other 
man.  I  say  I  never  even  thought  it  till  you  told  me. 
And  you  jest  went  and  opened  it  up  to  me  in  sich  a 
way  that  I  couldn't  help  seein'  whar  I  could  have  done 
a  whole  heap  better.  You  kept  makin'  me  wish  I  had 
one  chance  to  show  I  could  do  what  was  right,  —  and 
now  it's  come  —  it's  come."  He  swung  his  leg  from 
the  table  and  walked  to  the  window.  "  They  say  that 
spot  thar  is  where  they're  goin'  to  string  me  up.  But 
they  ain't  —  they're  goin'  to  be  mightily  disappointed. 
Jacob  Phelps  ain't  goin'  to  have  his  neck  broke  by 
no  rope.     D'you  hear  that  ?    Is  you  listenin'  to  me  ?  " 

Sargent  rose  in  amazement.  One  step,  and  he  was 
beside  Phelps.  "  How  did  you  know  ?  "  he  gasped. 
"  No  one  could  have  suspected  it.  I  only  decided  a 
few  minutes  before  I  came  here." 

"  Decided  what?  "  Phelps  asked,  staring  at  him. 

"  To  help  you.  I  don't  know  yet  how  we  can  man- 
age it." 


144        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

Phelps  looked  at  him  quietly  for  a  few  minutes. 
Then  he  turned  away  silently,  and  went  to  the  bunk, 
sitting  down  on  it,  and  letting  his  head  fall  into  his 
hands. 

"  So  you  think  I'm  doin'  right,"  he  murmured,  his 
face  still  lowered.    "  I'm  kinder  glad  you  do." 

"  Of  course  it  is  right.  It's  the  only  thing.  I  don't 
think  I  could  look  the  world  in  the  face  again  if  you 
were  to  be  hanged."  He  moved  over  to  the  bunk, 
and  sat  down  beside  Phelps.  The  candle  had  burned 
low,  and  the  wick,  spluttering  in  the  melted  tallow, 
left  the  room  in  a  fitful  gloom. 

"  I  never  killed  any  man  unless  I  had  to,"  Phelps 
continued  slowly.  "  I  didn't  mean  to  kill  old  Puckett 
that  night.  He  jest  held  on  so  tight  I  had  to  git  away 
somehow."    He  ended  with  a  deep  groan. 

In  the  long  silence  the  candle  gave  a  last  flicker 
and  went  out.  Except  for  a  narrow  square  of  light 
from  the  window,  half  obscured  by  the  heavy,  omi- 
nous looking  bars,  the  room  was  now  in  total  dark- 
ness. 

Finally  Phelps  stretched  out  his  arms  and  rising, 
went  back  to  the  table.  "  But  I  reckon  it's  all  regret- 
tin'  to  no  use  now,"  he  murmured,  picking  up  the  piece 
of  paper  on  which  he  had  written,  and  folding  it  care- 
fully. "  I  wants  you  to  send  this  to  my  old  mother. 
She  lives  up  in  South  Ca'lina.  I've  wrote  her  name 
on  here.  I  wants  you  to  send  this  with  it,  too."  He 
pushed  his  hand  into  his  woollen  shirt,  and  pulled  out 
a  leather  pocketbook.  "  In  here's  receipts  for  all  my 
money  in  a  New  'leans  bank.  I  want  she  should  get 
all  of  it.  I've  been  sendin'  her  money  all  along,  but 
I  never  let  her  know  whar  I  was."    He  leaned  across 


ONE    MEANS    OF    ESCAPE         145 

the  table,  closer  to  Sargent  till  he  could  see  his  face 
more  distinctly.  "  I  don't  want  her  to  know  what 
happened  to  me."  His  voice  sank  to  a  whisper. 
"  Can't  you  jest  tell  her  I  died,  or  something?  That's 
jest  what  made  me  give  in  to  you  to-day  —  you  telling 
'bout  Puckett's  wife  left  all  alone  with  nobody  to  take 
care  of  her  when  she  was  gettin'  old  and  feeble.  It 
put  me  to  thinkin'  'bout  my  old  ma,  all  by  herself.  I 
didn't  care  after  that  what  you  folks  did  with  me.  I 
felt,  somehow,  like  nothin'  made  no  difference  any 
more.  When  I  thought  'bout  the  way  I  had  run  away 
from  that  poor  old  soul  and  left  her  all  by  herself, 
somethin'  inside  me  went  all  to  smash.  I  didn't  have 
a  drop  of  fightin'  blood  left  in  me.  .  .  .  You  see  that's 
what  you  done  for  one  man,  youngster.  'Tain't  agoin' 
to  hurt  ye  any,  neither.  .  .  .  Now  don't  stay  here  no 
longer.  Jest  go  along  home.  Here's  my  hand.  For- 
get all  'bout  me,  and  don't  never  blame  yourself.  It 
had  to  be  some  day  and  —  after  all  —  it  won't  be  the 
gallows."  He  walked  around  the  table  and  handed 
the  package  to  Sargent. 

"  I  don't  understand,"  Sargent  exclaimed,  not  mov- 
ing from  his  seat  on  the  bunk.  "  Why  give  me  the 
package  now?  The  other  matter,"  he  lowered  his 
voice,  "  is  so  much  more  important.  How  are  you 
going  to  manage  it?  I  must  know,  so  as  to  help 
you." 

Phelps  looked  down  at  him,  his  lips  moving  into  a 
kindly  smile.  "  It's  easy  enough.  I  don't  mind ;  as 
soon  as  you're  gone  I'll  do  it.  Trust  me  to  know  the 
easiest  way.  I'm  a  sure  shot,  and  I'm  not  the  one  to 
fail  on  myself." 

Sargent  stared  up  at  him,  bewildered.    The  package 


146         THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

slipped  out  of  his  hand  to  the  floor.  As  he  struggled 
to  his  feet,  he  found  himself  trembling  violently  with 
the  sudden  realization  of  what  Phelps  meant  to  do. 
He  stood  perfectly  still  for  a  second,  attempting  to 
decide  upon  his  own  course.  There  was  only  a  mo- 
ment or  two  in  which  to  act,  and  every  second  Phelps 
was  watching  him  intently.  His  power  of  the  court- 
room was  nothing  now  —  the  force  of  words  was 
gone.  His  lips  were  tight  drawn;  even  the  mere  act 
of  speaking  was  an  impossibility. 

The  pistol  lying  on  the  table  shone  with  a  metallic 
glint.  Suddenly  he  knew  that  he  must  get  it  away 
from  Phelps  at  any  cost.  Gathering  all  his  forces, 
he  made  a  dash  toward  it.  When  his  fingers  had 
closed  upon  it,  he  felt  Phelps'  iron  grip  upon  his 
arms. 

"  Give  it  up !  You  fool ! "  cried  the  outlaw. 
"  D'you  think  I'm  goin'  to  change  my  mind  because 
you  do!  " 

They  struggled  across  the  dark  room,  Sargent  edg- 
ing toward  the  door,  an  inch  at  a  time.  When  he  had 
almost  reached  it,  dragging,  writhing,  twisting  him- 
self in  Phelps'  grip,  he  felt  his  strength  suddenly  leave 
him. 

"  Wait  —  Phelps  —  wait,"  he  gasped.  "  I  did  not 
mean  —  this  —  I  meant  — " 

"  Let  go  —  let  go  —  and  stop  —  your  —  talking ! 
Let  go,  I  say!    You  won't?    Well  —  take  that!" 

Sargent  felt  himself  spinning  through  the  darkness. 
As  his  head  struck  the  heavy  bar  of  the  window  he 
heard  a  crashing  sound,  as  if  the  walls  of  the  jail 
were  falling  together,  then  a  brilliant  flash  —  after- 
wards, dead,  black  silence. 


ONE    MEANS    OF    ESCAPE        147 

A  few  minutes  later,  he  opened  his  eyes.  There 
was  a  bright  light  in  the  cell,  and  several  men  were 
moving  about  excitedly.  The  whole  place  was  filled 
with  the  stifling  odour  of  powder.  On  the  floor,  a 
foot  away  from  him,  lay  the  stiffening  body  of  Jacob 
Phelps. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

THE    CAPTAIN'S   JOKE 

The  old  town  clock  was  chiming  two  when  Sargent 
finally  passed  the  last  cabin,  and  turned  from  the  high- 
way into  the  private  road  to  the  house.  He  had  passed 
through  the  last  hours  dazed  and  only  half  understand- 
ing what  was  taking  place  about  him.  His  return  to 
consciousness,  the  horrible  sight  of  Phelps'  face  man- 
gled beyond  recognition,  the  excitement  and  the  ques- 
tions of  the  crowd  which  had  so  quickly  assembled,  and 
his  subsequent  statement  of  the  affair  to  the  Sheriff  — 
all  these  details  were  gone  through  much  like  some 
dream  in  which  everything  is  half  obscured  and  acted 
in  without  one's  real  volition. 

Friends'  greetings  and  hand-clasps  he  had  received 
without  one  word,  even  when  the  physician  had  bound 
up  his  wound,  an  ugly  gash  on  the  head,  caused  by  his 
fall  against  the  bars,  he  had  merely  asked  if  he  were 
free  now  to  go  his  way. 

The  deathly  stillness  of  the  country,  the  wide  gloom 
of  the  heavens,  dotted  with  a  dazzling  brilliance  of 
stars,  the  vague,  motionless  forests  across  the  deserted 
fields,  made  the  night  seem  to  him  a  fit  setting  for  the 
weird,  strange  spell  into  which  he  had  sunk. 

When  he  stood  before  the  big  gate  and  saw  the 
house  gleaming  in  the  night  brilliance,  he  started  as 
if  brought  suddenly  before  something  he  had  not  ex- 

148 


THE    CAPTAIN'S   JOKE  149 

pected.  A  light  shone  from  the  parlour  window,  an 
unprecedented  thing  at  such  an  hour,  yet  it  did  not 
strike  him  as  unusual. 

Tying  his  horse  at  the  gate,  for  it  would  be  only 
two  hours  before  he  must  return,  he  walked  drag- 
gingly  towards  his  room.  There  too  was  a  light  and 
a  figure  standing  in  the  doorway. 

"  Thank  gracious,  youse  done  cum,  Massa  Sargent," 
Dicey  exclaimed,  running  towards  him.  "  Whar  in 
de  name  ob  de  good  Lawd  has  yer  bin  ?  Ole  Miss  and 
Lil  Miss  an'  ev'ybody  else  done  gone  all  ter  pieces  'bout 
sumthin\  Ise  bin  smellin'  er  mouse  but  I  cyant  ketch 
him.  Now  —  Massa  Sargent,  whut's  er  causin'  all  dis 
heah  fuss  ?  " 

Sargent  moved  past  the  old  woman,  into  his  room. 
"  I  cannot  talk  now,  Dicey,"  he  said,  going  directly 
to  a  large  armoire  and  unlocking  it.  "  To-morrow  — 
all  of  you  will  know." 

"  But  ole  Miss  wants  ter  see  yer  to-night.  She  bin 
er  pacin'  up  an'  down,  up  an'  down  dat  parloh  flo'  all 
night  —  a  waitin'  fer  yer.  Eber  sence  Massa  Jervais 
wuz  heah  she  ain'  seem  hab  no  peace  ob  min' !  She 
done  tole  me  ter  watch  fer  yer  and  bring  yer  straight 
ter  her  —  so  cum  'long,  right  dis  minit." 

Sargent  stared  at  her  silently. 

"  You  say  Mr.  Jervais  has  been  here  this  evening." 

"  Yaas,  suh,  bout  two  hours." 

"  Then  he  told  her !  "  Sargent  exclaimed. 

"  Mos'  eberything,  I  reckon.  But  cum  on  ober  dar, 
fer  I  wants  ter  git  ter  bed  'fo  daybreak,  sho\" 

Sargent  followed  Dicey  across  the  yard,  into  the 
dimly  lit  hall,  where  the  wall  of  portraits  swam  before 
him  like  the  faces  of  the  multitude  he  had  faced  that 


150        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

day.  Knocking  at  the  parlour  door,  Dicey  announced 
him,  and  then  disappeared  into  the  shadows  of  the  hall. 

Mrs.  Brandon  was  standing  beneath  the  massive 
bronze  chandelier,  her  face  paler  than  Sargent  had 
ever  seen  it,  her  whole  expression  and  poise  bereft 
of  the  cold  assurance  which  had  seemed  the  outward 
expression  of  the  woman's  character. 

Sargent  closed  the  door  after  him,  and  stood  facing 
her,  both  of  them  silent  a  few  moments. 

"  Is  it  true  ?  "  Mrs.  Brandon  finally  demanded,  her 
words  coming  colder  and  crisper  than  ever  before. 

"  You  mean  —  that  Mr.  Jervais  has  challenged  me, 
Mistress  Brandon?  If  so  —  he  has  and  I  have  ac- 
cepted.   It  is  to  be  in  a  very  few  hours." 

Her  eyes  blazed  at  Sargent,  full  of  a  violent  hatred 
that  led  him  to  read  for  a  certainty  the  love  she  bore 
Jervais.  Even  in  that  moment  of  his  gloom  and  her 
anger,  the  incongruity  of  the  love  of  this  woman  for 
Jervais  struck  a  distracting  note  in  his  thoughts. 

"  Are  you  determined  to  meet  him,  Mr.  Everett  ?  " 

"  I  am,  Mistress  Brandon." 

"  Do  you  realize  that  it  will  cause  you  to  lose  your 
position  in  my  family?  Of  course  such  an  unheard-of 
thing  as  a  school-master  fighting  a  duel,  is  sufficient 
to  annul  our  contract." 

"  I  supposed  this  would  be  the  case.  I  cannot  blame 
you.    You  are  quite  right." 

She  came  a  step  nearer  Sargent.  Her  lips  pressed 
hard  against  each  other  as  she  evidently  forced  herself 
to  speak. 

"  If  you  will  forego  this  duel,  I  shall  reconsider 
the  matter.  I  would  retain  you  as  the  children's 
tutor." 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    JOKE  151 

"  Thank  you,  Mistress  Brandon,  there  is  no  help  for 
it  now.  I  go  to  it  as  my  one  chance  of  —  "  he  broke 
off  abruptly  and  turned  towards  the  door. 

"  Wait,  —  I  am  not  through,"  she  cried,  her  voice 
breaking  shrilly,  "  I  can  not  have  this  duel  —  don't 
you  understand  —  it  must  not  take  place.  What 
will  keep  you  from  it?  Certainly  there  is  some- 
thing! " 

Sargent  met  her  eyes  calmly.  He  could  see  now  a 
weakening,  a  tremulousness  beneath  her  hauteur  which 
in  another  moment  might  break  the  indomitable  spirit 
entirely.  Suddenly  he  took  her  hand  in  his,  very 
gently. 

"  There  is  nothing  for  you  to  fear,  Mistress  Bran- 
don. Believe  me  when  I  tell  you  that  my  fire  shall 
be  thrown  away.  Mr.  Jervais  will  be  as  safe  this  time 
to-morrow  as  he  is  now.  You  have  been  very  just 
and  hospitable  to  me  while  I  was  a  member  of  your 
household.  I  thank  you  for  it,  and  ask  you  in  parting 
to  grant  me  only  one  request." 

She  had  drawn  away  from  him  with  the  allaying 
of  her  fears.  There  was  no  doubt  of  his  sincerity.  But 
with  the  feeling  of  safety,  her  pride  rushed  over  her 
again,  and  in  the  chagrin  of  having  betrayed  herself, 
she  became  more  coldly  abducent  than  before. 

"  What  is  your  request?  "  came  her  answer,  full  of 
predicated  denial. 

"  To  see  Natalia  before  I  leave." 

Mrs.  Brandon  lifted  her  eyes  in  surprise. 

"  To-night  ?  Now  ?  Surely  you  know  that  would 
be  impossible !  " 

"  It  would  be  for  the  last  time,"  Sargent  answered 
tentatively. 


152        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

"  Pardon  me  —  but  I  can  not  think  of  it.  Perhaps 
I  might  consent  before  she  goes  —  " 

"  After  to-night  it  will  be  too  late." 

For  answer  Mrs.  Brandon  lifted  the  candlestick  and 
passed  out  into  the  hall. 

In  his  plain  room,  the  walls  of  whitewashed  logs, 
and  the  spotless  floor  covered  with  rag  rugs,  he  pulled 
out  the  worn  little  hair  trunk  which  had  come  on  the 
long  journey  from  Maine  with  him.  There  was  not 
very  much  that  he  had  to  put  in  it,  and  when  he  had 
filled  the  tray,  piling  one  end  with  his  much  used 
books,  he  paused  a  moment,  holding  the  last  one  in  his 
hand  and  gazing  a  long  time  at  the  fly  leaf.  It  re- 
called vividly  that  day  —  so  far  off  now  —  when  he 
and  his  mother  had  packed  the  same  little  trunk,  and 
she  had  given  him  the  book  as  her  last  gift,  to  be  taken 
with  him  wherever  he  went.  Her  words  were  there 
before  him  on  the  page  now.  He  read  them  over  and 
over  again : 

"  My  son,  neglect  not  to  peruse  these  sacred  writings 
with  interest,  that  you  may  obtain  that  virtue  which 
will  guide  you  through  life's  thorny  path,  fit  you  for 
an  usefulness  in  life,  peace  in  death,  and  happiness  in 
the  spirit  land." 

He  touched  his  lips  to  the  book,  afterwards  wrap- 
ping it  carefully,  and  writing  Natalia's  name  across 
the  paper.  Not  now,  but  some  day  far  off,  she  would 
understand  what  it  had  represented  to  him. 

Then  sitting  down  before  the  table  and  putting  the 
two  candles  close  together,  he  poured  out  the  whole 
of  his  tortured  soul,  his  disappointment,  the  worldly 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    JOKE  153 

success  which  was  to  him  so  damning  a  bitterness,  his 
utter  hopelessness  —  all  this  he  wrote  to  his  mother 
in  a  letter  which  was  never  to  reach  her. 

A  subdued  rustling  in  the  trees  roused  him  with  the 
certainty  that  the  time  had  come  for  him  to  be  on  his 
way.  Blowing  out  the  candles  and  locking  the  door 
of  the  little  room  that  had  sheltered  him  for  many 
months,  for  the  last  time,  he  went  through  the  grove 
to  the  gate.  There  he  paused  and  let  his  eyes  rest 
for  a  moment  on  the  old  mansion  of  the  Span- 
iards. 

The  fragile,  crescent  moon  was  already  lowering 
towards  the  distant  lowlands,  and  in  its  vague  light 
the  house  was  softly  outlined  among  the  magnolias. 
Even  then,  as  he  had  often  felt  before  when  looking 
at  this  scene  in  the  stillness  of  the  night,  Sargent  felt 
a  strange  spell  of  mystery  and  fatefulness  creep  over 
him.  There  was  something  ghostly  in  the  white  house 
accentuated  by  the  gloom  of  the  grove  and  the  inclos- 
ing hedge  of  Cherokee  roses,  so  filled  with  white 
dream  flowers. 

Against  his  will  his  thoughts  drifted  into  fancies  of 
Natalia's  future.  He  could  see  her  going  away  to  dis- 
tant lands,  beautiful  and  wealthy  and  courted,  and 
coming  back  perhaps  to  spend  the  happiness  of  her  life 
in  this  perfect  setting.  And,  as  always  with  his 
thoughts,  the  subject  of  them  became  visible  before 
him.  He  saw  the  beautiful,  vivid  little  face  looking 
at  him  with  the  dependence  and  yearning  for  sympathy 
which  had  first  riveted  the  chains  of  his  love.  He  saw 
the  thin,  delicate  features,  the  oval  contour,  the  un- 
usual softness  of  skin,  almost  olive  about  the  eyes  and 
very  white  and  fair  on  the  temples,  and  the  black  lashes 


154         THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

and  the  velvety  shadows  beneath  the  eyes,  that  gave 
that  world-old  expression  when  she  smiled. 

While  he  gazed  before  him,  dwelling  on  each  mem- 
ory of  the  little  girl  he  was  leaving  for  ever,  he  saw 
her  eyes  grow  slowly  bloodshot,  then  almost  imper- 
ceptibly her  skin  seemed  to  deaden  and  the  ghastly  red 
of  clotted  blood  obliterated  the  likeness,  leaving  in  its 
place  the  mangled  face  of  Jacob  Phelps.  Digging  the 
spurs  into  his  horse,  Sargent  tore  down  the  road 
towards  the  town,  at  a  breakneck  speed. 

Judge  Houston  was  waiting  at  his  door,  calm  and 
very  pale.  Together  he  and  Sargent  walked  to  the 
tavern,  without  speaking  a  word  beyond  the  greetings. 
It  was  still  quite  dark,  and  as  they  neared  the  hostelry 
the  windows  of  the  club  room  shone  bright,  and  from 
within  came  the  sounds  of  noisy  merriment. 

"  Will  you  tell  Captain  Mentdrop  I  am  here, 
Judge  ?  "  Sargent  said,  when  they  stood  outside  the 
door.  "  I  should  rather  not  go  in  there."  He  shud- 
dered at  the  thought  of  more  congratulations  about 
the  yesterday. 

Standing  outside  alone,  he  heard  a  loud  burst  of 
laughter  —  Jervais',  then  the  Captain's;  afterwards  a 
silence  as  the  two  parties  came  out  at  the  same  time, 
Captain  Mentdrop  and  Jervais  leading  the  way,  walk- 
ing arm  in  arm. 

"  Hello,  Sargent,  you're  there,  are  you  —  and  Judge 
Houston,  —  my  compliments,  sir." 

Jervais  passed  without  a  word  to  his  friends  who 
followed  him  out,  and  then  both  parties  took  carriages, 
already  waiting  for  them,  and  drove  down  the  long 
hill  to  the  river. 

"  Well,  sir,  I've  had  a  night  of  it  'pon  my  word, 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    JOKE  155 

I  have,"  cried  the  Captain,  seemingly  in  the  best  of 
spirits.  "  Will  you  believe  it,  Sargent,  I've  been  sit- 
ting in  there  with  Lem  Jervais  since  ten  o'clock  last 
night!" 

Sargent  listened  listlessly.  "  Is  he  so  entertain- 
ing? "  he  asked  without  interest. 

The  Captain  looked  at  Judge  Houston  and  dropped 
a  sly  wink. 

"  Immensely  so !  And  when  Suggs  came  in  and 
told  us  about  your  scuffle  with  Phelps  —  well,  you'd 
'a'  learned  something  if  you'd  heard  what  he  said !  " 

Judge  Houston  had  started  at  the  mention  of 
Phelps.     In  a  moment  his  hand  was  on  Sargent's. 

"  What  about  Phelps,  Sargent  ?  Did  you  go  to  see 
him?" 

Sargent  met  his  glance  beseechingly. 

"  Not  now  —  Judge.  After  this  is  over,  get  Cap- 
tain to  tell  you  about  it.     Please  —  not  now!  " 

In  the  chill  numbness  of  the  hour  before  daybreak 
they  took  their  places  in  a  skiff,  and  shot  out  on  to  the 
wide  surface  of  the  river.  The  white  mist  obliterated 
the  opposite  bank,  and  when  they  had  drifted  a  mile 
below  the  town  a  narrow  strip  of  sand  bar  suddenly 
appeared  out  of  the  dark,  and  a  moment  later  the  boat 
was  grounded  upon  the  sand. 

Close  behind  them  came  the  other  skiff,  and  both 
parties  immediately  walked  across  the  clean  white  bar, 
to  two  wide-spreading  willows  which  marked  the  spot 
of  the  then  famous  duelling  ground. 

When  the  two  groups  had  formed  themselves  and 
the  formal  greetings  gone  through,  Judge  Houston 
left  Sargent's  side,  and  going  to  Jervais,  led  him  a 
little  way  from  the  others.    A  very  few  words  passed 


156         THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

between  them,  when  Judge  Houston  turned  away  sadly 
and  went  back  to  his  place. 

"  I  told  you  so,"  said  the  Captain,  raising  his  great 
shoulders  contemptuously.  "  When  a  challenge  has 
been  sent  and  accepted,  it's  a  man's  duty  to  go  through 
it  without  any  more  words.  This  reconciliation 
business  is  all  stuff  —  until  you've  got  through  fight- 
ing. 

Judge  Houston  met  the  Captain's  restless  eyes 
calmly. 

"  Don't  you  think  everything  should  be  done  to 
save  a  man's  life?"  he  asked  quietly. 

"  Not  one  bit  of  it !  "  The  Captain's  hands  met  in 
a  resounding  clasp.  "  That  scoundrel,"  pointing  to 
Jervais,  "  would  be  a  heap  better  dead,  and  as  for 
saving  his  life,  it  would  be  better  if  all  parties  took  a 
hand  at  getting  rid  of  him.  This  world  would  be 
a  heap  better  with  so  many  less  of  that  sort.  If  I  was 
a  praying  man,  I'd  a  said  a  bit  of  prayer  for  Sargent 
to  kill  him." 

"  Yet  you  came  out  of  the  tavern  a  while  ago,  arm 
in  arm  with  him !  "  Judge  Houston  answered  coldly. 
"  Are  your  sentiments  quite  sincere,  Captain  Ment- 
drop?" 

The  Captain  looked  into  the  face  of  the  older  man, 
much  as  a  big  dog  looks  condescendingly  upon  an- 
other; then  he  slipped  his  arm  through  Judge  Hous- 
ton's and  led  him  away  from  Sargent.  When  he  was 
out  of  hearing,  he  put  his  mouth  close  to  his  com- 
panion's ear. 

"  Take  a  peep  at  Jervais,"  he  whispered.  "  Don't 
you  see  he's  all  to  pieces  —  couldn't  hit  the  side  of  a 
house  if  he  tried  a  week.    That's  what  I've  been  doing 


THE    CAPTAIN'S   JOKE  157 

with  him  all  night.  Loading  him  up!  Loading  him 
up,  sir !  And  not  with  buckshot  either  —  with  whis- 
key, mind  you.  D'you  think  I  was  going  to  let  that 
youngster  stand  up  here  and  get  killed  by  that  scoun- 
drel ?    Well,  I  reckon  not !  " 

Judge  Houston's  face  paled.  He  gripped  the  Cap- 
tain's arm  with  a  trembling  hand.  "  Does  Sargent 
know  this?  " 

"  No  —  of  course  not.  Say,  Judge,  what  d'you  take 
me  for,  anyhow  ?  " 

"  He  must  know  it !    You  must  tell  him !  " 

"I?    I'll  be  damned  if  I  do !  " 

"  Then  I  will." 

"  No,  you  won't  either.  Now,  look  here,  Judge 
Houston,  this  is  my  affair,  and  if  you  interfere,  your 
age  and  position  won't  make  a  blame  bit  of  difference 
in  what  I  might  do  to  you.  I'm  bent  and  determined 
to  save  that  youngster,  and  all  your  pious  conscience 
and  principles  and  fol-de-rol  beliefs  ain't  going  to  keep 
me  from  it.  You  see  what  I  mean,  don't  you?  So 
don't  fret  me,  any  more !  " 

Without  a  moment's  delay,  the  Captain  turned 
towards  Jervais'  party  with  the  magnificent  bravado 
which  was  always  at  his  command  and  called  out : 

"  Shall  we  toss  for  the  word,  gentlemen?  " 

For  a  second  a  gold  coin  gleamed  in  the  air  and 
fell  at  the  Captain's  feet. 

"  Thank  you,  gentlemen,"  he  bowed,  with  a  flourish, 
"  the  honour  is  mine." 

Then  opening  a  large  valise,  he  took  out  four  pistols 
and  handed  them  to  Jervais'  second,  who  handed 
them  to  Jervais.     The  selection  was  made. 

At  that  moment  the  Captain  saw  Judge  Houston 


158        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

make  a  step  towards  Sargent.  Quick  as  a  flash  his 
voice  rang  out  — 

"  Are  you  ready,  gentlemen?    There  is  the  sun." 

It  was  too  late  for  the  warning.  Judge  Houston 
dropped  back  as  Sargent  and  Jervais  stepped  out  on 
the  clear  stretch  of  sand.  Turning  back  to  back,  each 
walked  ten  strides  in  the  opposite  direction,  then  turned 
again  and  faced  each  other.  Sargent  threw  his  cane 
from  him,  and  looked  into  Jervais'  scowling  face,  a 
few  yards  away  from  him.  In  his  opponent's  restless 
eyes,  in  his  twitching  lips  and  slightly  trembling  hands, 
he  understood,  without  being  told,  what  the  Captain 
had  done  for  him. 

On  the  light  breeze  that  raced  before  the  dawn,  the 
Captain's  voice  came  firm  and  loud. 

"  Gentlemen !     Are  you  ready  ?     Fire !     One  —  " 

Jervais  fired. 

"Two!" 

Sargent's  pistol  was  raised  and  as  his  fingers  clasped 
the  trigger,  in  the  knowledge  that  he  must  fire  he  aimed 
far  to  the  right  of  Jervais,  then,  with  an  uncontrollable 
movement,  found  himself  pointing  directly  at  his  op- 
ponent as  the  shot  rang  out. 

"Three!" 

When  the  whiff  of  smoke  had  cleared,  both  men 
were  standing  looking  at  each  other.  For  a  second 
they  stood  still,  then  the  seconds  rushed  between  and 
the  duel  was  over. 

"  Great  Lord !  "  cried  the  Captain,  letting  out  his 
choicest  string  of  oaths.  "  Here  I've  been  wasting  a 
whole  night  expecting  to  see  something.  And  what 
d'  I  get?  Two  men  standing  up  and  looking  at  each 
other  over  a  whiff  of  smoke."    Throwing  a  contemp- 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    JOKE  159 

tuous  look  at  Jervais'  companions,  he  grabbed  Sargent 
about  the  shoulders  and,  squeezing  him  hard,  led  him 
a  good  distance  from  the  others.  Then  it  was  that 
the  young  lawyer,  passing  through  the  valley  of 
shadows,  and  just  beginning  to  see  hope  for  the  future, 
looked  up  at  the  old,  wrinkled  face  bending  close 
beside  him,  and  found  the  sparkling  grey  eyes  over- 
flowing with  merriment. 

"  Sonny,"  he  said,  giving  Sargent  a  hearty  squeeze 
and  attempting  to  hold  his  laughter  no  longer.  "  You 
needn't  been  so  serious  about  this  thing.  There  wasn't 
a  damn  bullet  in  a  one  of  them  pistols !  " 


CHAPTER    IX 

A    PROMISE    FOR   THE    FUTURE 

That  night,  when  the  boys  had  gone  to  sleep,  Dicey 
came  to  the  side  of  Natalia's  bed,  and  sat  down,  hold- 
ing the  little  girl's  hand  close  to  her  tear-stained  face. 
They  were  to  be  separated  the  next  day,  for  the  first 
time  in  their  companionship  of  twelve  years.  The 
morrow's  boat  was  to  take  Natalia  on  her  long  jour- 
ney to  the  North. 

"  Mammy,  he  is  not  coming  out  here  any  more," 
Natalia  said,  her  wide  open  eyes  staring  into  the  old 
slave's  face. 

"  No,  —  honey-chile,  —  he  ain'  comin'  heah  no 
mo . 

"  And  I  won't  see  him  to-morrow  before  I  go  ?  " 

"  No,  sugar  —  ole  Miss  ain'  gwine  let  him  speak 
ter  yer.  She  done  said  dat  pintedly,  so  dar  ain'  no  use 
stedyin'  'bout  hit  no  mo'." 

Natalia  glanced  at  the  clock,  its  face  shining  bright 
in  the  light  of  a  solitary  candle.  The  hands  were  at 
nine. 

"  Mammy,"  she  crept  over  to  the  side  of  the  bed 
where  Dicey's  ear  was  most  convenient.  "  Mammy, 
you  love  me  very,  very  much  —  don't  you  ?  " 

Dicey  scented  danger.  In  a  moment  her  ears  were 
keen. 

"  Sho'  I  does,  honey-chile,  you  knows  dat." 
160 


A  PROMISE  FOR  THE  FUTURE  161 

"  And  you  would  do  anything  I  asked  you,  wouldn't 
you,  Mammy?  " 

"  Mebbe  so  —  whut  yer  wants  now  ?  " 

Natalia  sat  up  and  clasped  her  hands  about  her 
knees. 

■  I  want  to  go  to  see  him  to-night,  Mammy.    Will 
you  take  me?" 

Dicey  leaned  over  the  bed  and  pulled  the  quilt  tight 
about  the  little  figure. 

"  Lay  down,  honey,"  she  said  soothingly,  "  and  go 
ter  sleep.  All  dis  heah  'citement  bout  goin'  way  done 
addled  yer.  Co'se  yer  cyant  go  see  Massa  Sargent  ter- 
night.  Who  ebber  heerd  tell  ob  sich  a  thing?  Go  ter 
sleep  now  —  I'se  gwine  sing  ter  yer  bout  Moses  —  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  hear  about  Moses,  Mammy." 
Natalia  threw  off  the  quilt  and  sprang  out  of  bed. 
"  I  want  to  see  him,  Mammy,  before  he  goes.  I  want 
to  tell  him  good-bye.     Please  take  me." 

Dicey  shook  her  head  knowingly,  and  stood  up. 

"  Come  on  back  to  bed,  honey,  yer  gwine  ketch  yer 
death  ob  col'  standin'  dar  in  de  night  ar.  Co'se  yer 
cyant  go  out  ter-night." 

Natalia  tossed  the  hair  out  of  her  eyes  and  faced 
Dicey  angrily. 

"If  you  won't  take  me,  I'll  get  Zebby  to.  I  know 
he'll  do  it." 

"  I  knows  whut  I'se  gwine  do."  Dicey  walked  to 
the  door  and  turned  the  key  in  the  lock,  removed  it  and 
placed  it  in  her  apron  pocket.  "  Now  you'se  got  ter 
be  managed.  I'se  gwine  put  yer  in  dat  bed  and  you'se 
got  ter  stay  dar."  She  ended  by  turning  towards 
Natalia  and  stopping  suddenly. 

It  was  the  first  time  the  child  had  ever  been  thwarted 


162        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

by  the  old  slave,  and  seeing  the  wrath  on  her  face  that 
she  had  never  seen  there  before,  she  at  first  trembled 
a  little,  and  then  suddenly  flared  into  a  passionate 
anger.  It  was  then  that  Dicey  stopped  and  stared  at 
her. 

"  Don't  you  come  near  me,  Mammy.  Don't  you  try 
to  put  me  in  bed.  I  won't  go  —  I  won't  —  I  won't." 
She  stamped  her  foot  in  rage.  "  And  you'll  be  very 
sorry  you  did  me  this  way  when  I  go  away  and  leave 
you  —  you'll  be  mighty  sorry !  " 

Then  came  the  storm  of  tears  and  Dicey  had  her  in 
her  soothing  embrace  once  more. 

"  You  won't  have  to  tell  anybody,  Mammy,"  came 
the  words  between  sobs.  "  Not  a  soul  will  know.  You 
get  Zebby  to  hook  up  the  chaise  and  take  me  into  town. 
We  can  go  to  Aunt  Maria's  and  she'll  tell  us  where  he 
is.  You  see  we  could  do  it!  Oh,  you  will,  Mammy, 
you  will  —  won't  you  ?  " 

Natalia  was  skipping  about  the  floor  in  wild  de- 
light, for  already  she  had  seen  the  glimmer  of  consent 
in  Dicey's  eyes. 

"Sh-h!  Sh-h!  Keep  still,"  the  old  woman  whis- 
pered. "  You'll  wake  'em  all  up.  Jes'  yer  stay  right 
heah  tell  I  see  ef  I  kin  fin'  Zebby." 

So  it  was  that  a  half  hour  later  they  were  jogging 
along  the  highway  towards  the  town,  the  starlight  so 
brilliant  that  the  lanterns  were  not  needed. 

"Oh!  look,  Mammy,  there's  a  shooting  star!" 
cried  Natalia. 

"  Humph !  I  am'  studyin'  bout  no  shootin'  stahs. 
I'm  mighty  worr'd  bout  whut  ole  Miss  gwine  say  when 
she  kotch  up  wid  me,"  grunted  Dicey.  "  Ef  she  done 
tek  er  notion  she  sell  me,  leaf's  not." 


A  PROMISE  FOR  THE  FUTURE    163 

"  But  she  can't,  Mammy,  because  you  belong  to  me. 
You  and  Zebby  both." 

When  they  had  reached  Judge  Houston's  house,  the 
front  door  was  wide  open,  and  the  sound  of  many 
voices,  and  the  sight  of  many  lights  within,  made  Na- 
talia hesitate ;  then  she  made  Dicey  go  in  and  ask  for 
Mrs.  Houston. 

In  a  moment  the  old  lady  was  standing  in  the  door- 
way, talking  to  Dicey,  and  then  hurrying  down  the 
steps. 

"  Natalia !  What  in  the  world  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 
she  exclaimed. 

"  I've  come  to  tell  him  good-bye.     Is  he  in  there  ?  " 

"He  — who?" 

"  The  schoolmaster." 

Mrs.  Houston  put  out  her  arms  and  gathered  the 
little  girl  to  her,  carrying  her  into  the  yard. 

"  Yes  —  he's  here  —  you  little  rascal,"  half  crying, 
half  laughing  at  Natalia's  anxious  expression.  "  They 
are  having  a  big  meeting  to-night  —  a  whole  lot  of  the 
townspeople  who  want  Sargent  to  run  for  the  Legis- 
lature." 

Natalia  drew  back  in  disappointment,  her  lips 
trembling. 

"  Then  I  can't  see  him  —  and  I  did  so  want  to  tell 
him  good-bye !  " 

"  You  wait  a  moment  —  go  over  there  in  the  sum- 
mer house  and  I'll  see  if  he  cannot  come  out  here  for 
a  little  while." 

Mrs.  Houston  entered  the  house,  and  pausing  before 
the  dining  room  door,  she  waited  a  moment  to  attract 
some  one's  attention.  About  the  long  mahogany  table 
were  seated  twenty  men.    At  one  end  sat  Judge  Hous- 


164        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

ton,  at  the  other  Sargent  Everett.  Between  them  were 
great  heaps  of  papers,  filled  with  the  proposed  plat- 
form they  were  formulating,  and  at  that  moment  an 
old  gentleman  was  standing  and  voicing  his  ideas  on 
the  subject.  In  the  midst  of  his  speech,  he  caught 
Mrs.  Houston's  eye,  and  stopped  abruptly. 

"  Pardon  me,  gentlemen,"  she  said  as  they  all  rose 
with  one  accord,  "  but  a  lady  has  just  called,  and  in- 
sists upon  seeing  one  of  you." 

A  general  laugh  and  some  uncertain  flushes  passed 
over  the  assembly. 

"  She  would  not  give  his  name,"  Mrs.  Houston  con- 
tinued, smiling  with  a  deep  enjoyment  upon  the  most 
confused  faces,  "  but  she  referred  to  him  as  the 
1  schoolmaster.'  Do  any  of  you  answer  to  that 
name  ?  " 

Sargent  was  beside  her  in  a  moment. 

"  Is  it  Natalia?  "  he  exclaimed  softly. 

"  Yes.    She  is  in  the  summer  house." 

Sargent  found  her  sitting  on  the  coping  of  the 
fish  pond,  staring  down  at  the  gold  fish  showing  dis- 
tinctly in  the  strangely  brilliant  starlight. 

"  I  am  going  away  to-morrow  and  you  did  not  even 
tell  me  good-bye,  when  you  ran  away  from  us !  "  she 
said,  her  dark  eyes  staring  up  at  Sargent  reproach- 
fully. 

"  But  I  could  not,  Natalia,  everything  was  crowd- 
ing upon  me  so  —  the  duel  —  the  —  " 

"  The  duel !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Sh-h-h !  Don't  talk  so  loud  about  it.  The  Judge 
does  not  want  Mrs.  Houston  to  know."  Sargent 
picked  her  up  in  his  arms  and  carried  her  to  a  bench 
on  the  far  side  of  the  summer  house.     She  was  very 


A  PROMISE  FOR  THE  FUTURE  165 

warm  and  throbbing  as  he  held  her  close  to  him,  and 
even  beneath  the  folds  of  the  cashmere  shawl  he  could 
feel  her  excited  little  heart  beating. 

"  Now  —  tell  me  about  it,"  she  whispered,  when  he 
sat  down,  still  holding  her.  "  Tell  me  about  the 
duel  —  was  it  a  real  one?  " 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so."  Sargent  could  not  keep  from 
smiling. 

"  How  beautiful !  I  wish  I  had  seen  it !  Who  was 
it  with  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Jervais." 

«  Oh  —  goody !     Did  you  kill  him  ?  " 

"  No  —  neither  of  us  was  hurt." 

She  sighed  disappointedly,  and  went  silent,  her  head 
nestling  in  the  hollow  of  his  shoulder. 

"  Do  you  have  to  hurry  back  to  those  old  lawyers  ?  " 

Sargent  shook  his  head. 

"  No.     They've  told  me  all  there  was  to  tell." 

Natalia  smiled  up  at  him,  her  silent,  sweet  little 
smile.  She  did  not  make  any  motion  to  move  or  say 
anything,  but  lay  against  him  contentedly  gazing  up 
at  the  sky. 

"  I've  seen  three  shooting  stars  to-night  —  Oh ! 
look !  There's  the  fourth !  "  she  exclaimed,  lifting  her 
face  to  follow  the  flashing  light.  "  And  the  heavens 
—  aren't  they  beautiful  to-night?  I  wonder  what  it 
means.     I  never  saw  the  stars  so  bright  before." 

Again  a  short  silence  fell  between  them,  —  the  quiet 
that  unconsciously  comes  to  people  when  they  feel  a 
long  separation  is  near ;  when  the  short  time  left  them 
should  be  crowded  with  words,  and  yet,  a  time  when 
words  seem  so  worthless. 

Sargent  looked  down  into  the  pensive  little  face 


166         THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

so  close  to  his  own.  In  the  night  glow  the  two  long 
braids  of  hair  shone  very  soft  and  glossy.  His  hand 
sunk  into  them  unconsciously  and  its  delicacy  and 
softness  he  found  delicious  to  the  touch. 

"What  makes  your  hair  so  beautiful?"  he  said 
impulsively,  his  hand  still  upon  it. 

"Oh,  my!  is  it?"  Natalia  sighed.  "It  ought  to 
be,  though,  for  Mammy  brushes  it  so  —  so  long  every 
morning  and  every  night.  Sometimes  I  wish  I  didn't 
have  any,  until  she  tells  me  I'd  be  ugly  without  it. 
And  she  says  people  won't  love  me  when  I'm  grown 
up  if  I'm  not  pretty.  Do  you  believe  that?"  with 
sudden  intensity. 

"  No."  Sargent  laughed  easily.  "  That's  a  bad 
theory  of  Mammy  Dicey's.  I'll  have  to  tell  her  she's 
mistaken." 

"  And  she  says  that  a  pretty  child  makes  an  ugly 
grown  up  person.     Do  you  believe  that  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  it  may  prove  true,  —  but  I  know  of 
one  where  it  is  not  going  to  be  the  case." 

Natalia's  eyes  beamed,  and  she  edged  up  closer  to 
Sargent,  looking  searchingly  into  his  face. 

"  Do  you  believe  I'm  going  to  be  pretty  when  I  am 
grown  up?  " 

Sargent  looked  down  at  her  a  long  time  before  he 
answered  lightly,  "  Why,  of  course.  You  are  going 
to  be  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the  world." 

Natalia  slid  off  his  knee  and  stood  facing  him,  both 
of  her  hands  clasped  in  his. 

"  I'm  so  —  so  glad.  Because  now  I'm  going 
away,"  she  hurried  on,  "  and  I'm  .going  to  be  gone  a 
long  time,  for  I'm  going  to  Boston  and  I'm  going  to 
Europe,  and  later  on  Mamma  Brandon  says  I  can 


A  PROMISE  FOR  THE  FUTURE  167 

make  the  Grand  Tour,  and  when  I  come  back  —  all 
grown  up  and  educated  and  a  real  young  lady  and 
beautiful  —  you  will  remember  me  —  won't  you? 
Mammy  says  gentlemen  never  forget  very  beautiful 
ladies." 

Sargent  drew  her  radiant  face,  all  flushed  and  in- 
tense, close  to  his. 

"  I'm  going  to  remind  you  of  this  some  day,  Na- 
talia, don't  forget.  So  you  are  coming  back  grown 
up  and  you  are  going  to  let  me  still  love  you  like  I  do 
now?  " 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  love  me  like  you  do  now," 
with  a  toss  of  her  head. 

"No?  Why?"  and  Sargent  puzzled  over  her 
meaning. 

"  I  want  you  to  love  me  like  I  see  young  gentlemen 
loving  young  ladies.  Sending  them  pretty  nosegays 
and  going  to  church  with  them  Sundays  and  taking 
them  to  balls.    That's  the  way  I  want  you  to  do !  " 

Sargent's  face  contracted  with  sudden  pain.  He 
knew  so  well  that  he  could  never  fill  the  role  that 
Natalia  had  already  planned  for  her  lover. 

"  Nosegays,  church  going,  dances,"  he  repeated 
after  her.  "  Well,"  with  a  sigh,  "  I  might  do  the  first 
two,  anyhow."  Then  seriously,  "  Natalia,  I  want  you 
to  remember  this."  For  a  moment  he  stopped  and 
looked  directly  into  her  eyes.  "  You  are  a  child  now 
but  you  will  soon  be  a  woman  —  a  beautiful  young 
lady,  as  you  say.  You  are  going  far  away  from  me 
and  it  is  only  natural  that  you  should  forget  all  about 
me ;  but  don't  forget  this  —  I  shall  always  love  you, 
more  and  more  as  the  years  go  along.  Don't  forget 
that  —  nor  this  —  that  the  greatest  joy  in  my  life  will 


168        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

be  to  be  of  some  help  to  you  some  day,  to  save  you 
some  suffering,  to  help  you  to  some  great  happiness. 
I  am  starting  out  to-night  on  my  life  work;  the  path 
has  come  to  me  through  suffering,  the  deepest  suffer- 
ing and  despair,  but  the  road  is  very  clear  to  me  now. 
I  see  my  mission  and  my  work !  "  He  stopped  sud- 
denly, his  eyes  glowing  with  the  radiance  of  his  new 
found  happiness.  Then  turning  slowly  back  to  the 
little  girl,  he  put  his  arms  about  her  and  lifted  her 
from  the  ground. 

"  You  couldn't  remember  all  that,  dear  little  Natalia, 
could  you  ?  "  He  smiled  on  her  yearningly.  "  But 
you  can  remember  that  when  I  look  down  that  beauti- 
ful road  of  life  I  shall  always  see  you  standing  at  the 
end  —  the  embodiment  of  all  its  happiness." 

Then  he  kissed  her  and  carried  her  quickly  toward 
the  gate,  Dicey  meeting  them  on  the  walk. 

"  Jedgment  day !  ef  hit  am'  time  you  wuz  er  comin'. 
Keepin'  yer  ole  mammy  up  all  hours  —  waitin'  fer  yer 
to  tell  de  Perfesser  gemman  good-bye.  Come  on  heah, 
honey-chile,  and  let's  jog  erlong  home.  Good-bye, 
Massa  Sargent.  We  sho'  is  gwine  miss  yer  out  ter 
de  big  house.     Good  night,  Massa." 

Sargent  leaned  on  the  gate,  and  listened  until  the 
sound  of  the  chaise  had  died  away.  Then  brushing 
his  hands  across  his  eyes  and  squaring  his  shoulders 
resolutely,  he  walked  back  to  the  house  and  into  the 
room  in  which  the  first  move  of  his  great  political 
career  was  being  originated. 


BOOK  III 
THE   LOVER 


169 


CHAPTER    I 

AFTER    SEVEN    YEARS 

It  was  the  proudest  moment  in  Captain  Mentdrop's 
long  career.  He  was  bringing  his  new  boat,  the 
Southern  Belle,  up  the  river  from  New  Orleans  on 
her  maiden  trip.  The  stories  of  this  new  boat  had 
preceded  her,  arousing  the  curiosity  of  the  country 
people  until  every  one  was  enthusiastically  impatient 
to  see  for  himself  this  boat  with  a  cabin  so  wide  that 
eight  horses  could  stand  abreast  in  it ;  with  wonderful 
stalactites  of  white  and  gold  that  hung  from  the  ceil- 
ing, and  swayed  with  the  motion  of  the  boat;  and 
real  kerosene  lamps  all  along  the  sides  of  the  dining 
saloon ;  and  a  water  cooler  at  one  end  that  was  made 
of  solid  silver  and  held  twenty  gallons  of  iced  water,  — 
indeed,  there  had  never  been  anything  on  the  Missis- 
sippi River  to  equal  this  floating  palace. 

The  Captain  had  let  no  opportunity  pass,  by  which 
he  could  make  this  initial  journey  of  his  new  boat 
one  of  glory  and  importance.  He  paced  the  deck  night 
and  day,  too  excited  to  take  a  moment's  rest.  With 
his  hands  shoved  deep  into  his  pockets  and  a  mammoth 
Havana  between  his  lips  —  the  pipe  had  disappeared 
with  so  much  prosperity  —  he  beamed  down  upon  the 
crowds  gathered  along  the  shore,  always  landing  when 
the  number  of  sightseers  justified  the  loss  of  time; 
and  welcomed  them  on  board  with  a  hospitality  that 

171 


172        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

was  made  lavish  by  a  corps  of  Creole  cooks  and  a 
brass  band. 

To  add  to  the  interest  of  the  voyage  there  were 
several  brides  and  grooms  who  had  chosen  this  trip 
for  the  wedding  journey,  as  was  the  fashion  of  that 
day ;  and  a  party  from  Boston  that  had  come  down  by 
sea  to  New  Orleans. 

"  Gee  Whillikens !  "  laughed  the  Captain,  when  the 
stage  planks  had  been  drawn  up  and  a  plantation  land- 
ing left  behind.  "  It  does  my  old,  dried-up  heart  good 
to  see  all  these  folks  so  tickled  over  this  boat.  It's 
giving  'em  more  downright  satisfaction  than  anything 
they've  seen  or  done  for  a  mighty  long  time.  I  tell 
you  I'm  glad  I  had  a  chance  to  show  'em  what  was  a 
sho'  enough  boat  —  a  boat  what  is  a  boat !  Now,  sir, 
you're  from  Boston,  so  I've  been  told,  and  I  wants 
you  to  tell  me,  honest  injun  now  —  did  you  ever  see 
anything  like  this  boat  of  mine,  up  yonder?"  He 
turned  abruptly  toward  his  companion,  his  twinkling 
eyes  searching  the  face  before  him. 

"  No,  Captain,  I  must  confess  I  never  saw  anything 
like  your  boat  in  my  part  of  the  country;  but  then, 
we  only  have  ships  and  sea-going  vessels,  and  even  on 
the  Hudson  the  boats  are  not  half  as  large  as  this." 

Captain  Mentdrop  turned  back,  evidently  relieved. 
"  I'm  powerful  glad  to  hear  it  from  one  who's  been 
up  thar  and  knows.  Are  you  down  in  these  parts  for 
long?" 

"  No,  not  very  long.  In  fact,  Captain,  to  be  per- 
fectly frank  with  you,  I've  come  down  here  to  be 
married." 

The  old  Captain  turned  and  inspected  his  companion 
more  closely.     Leaning  easily  against  the  railing,  one 


AFTER  SEVEN  YEARS     173 

arm  thrust  carelessly  into  an  embroidered  waistcoat, 
a  suit  of  dark  green  broadcloth  ornamented  with  large 
pearl  buttons,  and  a  bell  crowned  beaver,  each  detail 
of  his  costume  proclaiming  him  a  man  of  fashion  — 
the  stranger  made  a  strikingly  handsome  picture. 
Apart  from  his  well-chosen  clothes,  his  handsome 
face  —  fair,  with  honest  blue  eyes  and  bright,  blond 
hair  —  impressed  one  with  a  certain  freshness  and 
charm.  He  was  a  man  evidently  used  to  the  niceties 
and  refinements  of  life,  one  to  whom  difficulties  and 
hardships  had  never  come. 

"  So  you've  come  way  down  here  to  get  you  a  bride, 
have  you  ?  "  the  Captain  commented,  evidently  satisfied 
with  his  inspection.  "  Something  of  a  long  trip,  it 
strikes  me.  She  must  be  a  powerful  exception  to  her 
kind,  to  draw  a  young  blood  all  over  this  much  travel- 
ling to  get  her." 

The  stranger  laughed  good-humouredly,  his  face 
beaming  with  a  boyishness  that  was  winning.  "  She 
is  an  exception !  "  he  answered,  "  and  sufficiently  fas- 
cinating to  make  one  travel  any  distance  to  win  her; 
but,  in  my  case,  I  am  not  going  to  find  her  —  she  is 
already  with  me.  She  has  been  spending  several  years 
with  my  family  in  Boston,  and  when  we  decided  to  be 
married,  she  wanted  to  come  down  here  to  have  the 
wedding  in  the  old  home  of  her  ancestors." 

"  And  you  come  all  this  way  —  just  to  be  married !  " 
the  Captain  commented  with  a  shrug.  "  But  I  reckon 
when  a  feller  gets  way  off  yonder,  he  kinder  has  a 
hankering  after  old  places  he  used  to  know.  I  reckon 
that  was  the  way  with  your  gal  —  just  had  to  come 
back  and  see  it  once  more!  " 

The  stranger  was  silent  a  moment,  viewing  with 


174        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

evident  interest  the  stretch  of  wooded  hills  crowned 
by  a  rambling  town,  which  was  becoming  visible. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  you  are  right,"  he  said,  reflectively. 
"  It  was  the  memories  of  her  home  and  all  the  associa- 
tions of  childhood  which  had  become  dear  to  her  — 
now  that  she  knows  how  delightful  they  were.  But 
after  six  or  seven  years  it  seems  she  would  have  for- 
gotten all  about  it  —  particularly  as  she  was  a  little 
girl  when  she  left." 

The  Captain  shook  his  head,  knowingly.  "  There 
you're  wrong,  young  man.  It  takes  a  youngster  to 
remember  things.  I'll  wager,  sir,  she  can  tell  you 
every  one  of  the  changes  that's  taken  place  since  she 
left  here.  And  if  you're  going  to  Natchez,  and  I  be- 
lieve you  said  you  were,  —  well,  sir,  she'll  find  enough 
changes  there.  Whew!  but  it  makes  me  feel  kinder 
like  it's  time  for  me  to  be  turning  in  my  checks 
when  I  look  around  the  old  town  and  see  the 
difference." 

With  a  shake  of  his  rugged  frame,  he  went  nearer 
the  railing  to  better  scan  the  shore.  Already  they 
could  see  the  line  of  carriages  and  the  brilliant  colours 
of  the  crowd  assembled  to  meet  the  boat.  Some 
smaller  craft  had  left  the  town  landing  and  gone 
forward  to  salute  the  new  boat,  waving  colours  and 
blowing  their  whistles  with  royal  welcome. 

"  All  of  them  seem  to  know  you,  Captain,"  the 
stranger  remarked,  when  the  Captain  had  called  greet- 
ings to  some  men  in  a  small  boat. 

14  Yes,  siree,  they  know  me !  Well,  they  ought  to. 
I've  been  plying  up  and  down  here  among  'em  for 
many  a  year,  and  I  know  pretty  nearly  every  blamed 
man  between  St.  Louis  and  New  'leans ;    and  every 


AFTER  SEVEN  YEARS     175 

house,  too,"  he  added,  his  eyes  resting  humourously 
upon  an  old  two  story  building  very  near  the  shore. 
"  Yes,  sir,  nearly  every  one  of  these  places  has  some- 
thing to  say  to  me  about  what's  gone  afore.  You  see 
that  shanty?  Well,  sir,  that  used  to  be  the  biggest 
gambling  den  in  the  whole  of  this  country.  The  fel- 
lows were  run  out  of  town  and  they  built  this  place 
just  outside  the  limits,  and  once,  when  I  was  a-takin' 
a  crowd  of  gentlemen  down  here  from  St.  Louis  on 
a  round  trip,  we  stopped  off  at  the  town  for  a  day, 
and  will  you  believe  me,  sir,  every  blamed  one  of  them 
gentlemen  went  and  got  drunk  and  got  mixed  up  with 
them  gamblers,  and  when  they  come  back  to  the  boat, 
damned  if  they  had  a  cent  —  not  a  one  of  'em.  That 
lot  of  scoundrels  had  just  fleeced  'em.  Well,  sir,  I 
just  made  up  my  mind  that  I  wasn't  goin'  to  put  up 
with  such  tom-foolery,  even  if  them  town  folks  was 
bluffed  out  by  the  gang,  and  I  set  to  work  to  think 
how  I  could  get  back  the  money  my  passengers  had 
dropped.  So  I  lets  my  boat  drift  down  from  the  land- 
ing till  I  gets  afore  that  very  shanty  there,  sir;  then 
I  stops  her  and  hollers  for  somebody  to  come  out  and 
talk  to  me  —  but  they  had  no  intention  of  comin'  out 
in  broad  daylight.  Finally  I  lets  off  a  load  of  buck- 
shot against  one  of  them  windows,  and  that  brought 
one  of  the  damn  rascals  to  the  door.  Says  I,  '  I  want 
the  money  you  stole  from  my  passengers,  you  dirty 
scoundrel ! '  Says  he  —  '  Why  don't  you  come  off 
that  dugout  and  get  it  ?  '  and  slams  the  door.  '  Well,' 
says  I  to  myself,  '  I  reckon  I'll  show  him  a  thing  or 
two ! '  So  I  makes  two  niggers  swim  ashore  with  a 
coil  of  rope  and  tells  'em  to  run  clear  round  the  house 
with  it  and  bring  both  ends  back  to  the  boat.     You 


176        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

see  that  made  a  circle  of  the  buildin',  with  me  a-holdin' 
both  ends.  I  gets  the  line  fastened  tight,  and  then 
calls  down  to  the  engineer  to  back  off  easy-like  —  just 
enough  to  make  the  rope  taut.  Then  I  stops.  Says 
I,  callin'  ashore  — '  I've  got  the  deadwood  on  you 
now.  Will  you  come  to  time  ? '  But  they  wasn't 
a-thinkin'  that  way,  so  I  backs  off  a  little  more,  and 
then  the  old  shanty  begins  to  creak.  Just  a  little  more 
and  the  whole  damn  house  would  a-tumbled  over.  It 
brought  'em  to  life,  though!  The  whole  gang  jumped 
out  of  the  windows  and  doors  and  everywhere,  and 
one  of  'em  called  out  that  he'd  give  me  the  money 
back  if  I'd  hold  up.  Well,  sir,"  he  nodded  toward  the 
building,  "  you  see  she's  still  a-standin'  there." 

The  stranger  joined  the  Captain  in  his  hearty,  in- 
fectious laughter.  "  It's  a  great  old  country  you  have 
down  here,"  he  commented  a  few  minutes  later.  "  The 
more  I  hear  of  it,  the  more  I  wonder  how  in  the  world 
Sargent  Everett  ever  made  his  way,  in  such  sur- 
roundings." 

Captain  Mentdrop  wheeled  suddenly,  his  wrinkled 
old  features  showing  a  new  interest. 

"  D'you  know  Sargent  Everett  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  I  did !  We  went  to  college  to- 
gether." 

The  old  Captain  extended  his  hand.  "  Let's  shake," 
he  said.  "  I  think  more  of  that  youngster  than  any- 
body else  in  the  world.  If  you're  his  friend,  I'm 
yours." 

"  I'm  very  glad  to  hear  it.  Do  you  know,"  the 
stranger  answered,  meeting  the  Captain's  look  with  a 
keener  interest,  "  I  haven't  seen  him  since  we  parted 
at  college.     I  hardly  think  that  I  would  know  him 


AFTER  SEVEN  YEARS     177 

now  —  and  particularly  since  he  has  grown  so  fa- 
mous." 

"  Famous !  Well,  I  reckon !  Why,  sir,  you  ought 
to  have  been  here  a  month  ago  when  he  come  back 
from  a  speech-makin'  trip.  It  would  'a'  done  your 
heart  good  to  see  how  the  people  turned  out  to  give 
him  a  welcome.  They  had  a  torch-light  procession 
that  night  and  fired  a  cannon,  and  had  an  all  'round 
jollification !  I  was  sure  proud  for  him.  It  showed  up 
plainer  that  day  how  everybody  felt  about  him.  That 
was  a  grand  speech  he  made  at  Jackson !  Did  you  hear 
anything  about  it,  up  in  your  country?  " 

"  No.  But  I  hope  I'll  have  an  opportunity  to  hear 
him  speak  while  I'm  down  here.  You  have  heard  him 
often,  I  suppose?  " 

"  Not  half  as  often  as  I'd  like  to,"  the  old  Captain 
answered.  "  I  heard  him  make  his  first  speech,  and 
'pon  my  word,  it's  a  wonder  —  the  way  he  gets  under 
your  skin  and  makes  you  feel  what  he's  a-sayin'.  It 
ain't  so  much  his  words  you  hear  when  you're  listen- 
ing to  him  —  it's  more  the  sound  of  his  voice  and  the 
look  of  his  face.  He  jest  takes  all  a  feller's  idees  away 
from  him  and  makes  him  think  jest  like  he  does.  But 
I  reckon  you  won't  get  a  chance  to  hear  him  if  you're 
only  here  for  a  week  or  two."  The  old  fellow  gave  a 
gesture  of  disappointment.  "  He's  running  for  Con- 
gress now.  I'm  kinder  sorry,  too,  cause  I  ain't  much 
on  politics  —  I  can't  look  at  things  but  one  way  my- 
self, and  that's  straight  at  'em,  and  politicians  seem 
to  me  to  spend  all  their  time  a-beatin'  'round  the  bush. 
But  I  reckon  Sargent'll  show  'em  a  new  way.  He 
knows  how  —  you  can  bet  your  bottom  dollar  on 
that!" 


178        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

"  I  should  like  for  Natalia  to  hear  you  talk  about 
him.  I  believe  I'll  go  find  her,"  the  young  man  said, 
turning  away  with  the  decision.  "  He  used  to  be  her 
tutor  when  she  lived  down  here."' 

"  It  ain't  no  use,"  the  Captain  raised  a  detaining 
hand.  "  It  won't  do  her  a  bit  of  good  to  hear  about 
him.  He  don't  give  a  snap  of  his  fingers  about  the 
lady  folks.  I  heard  some  of  'em  call  him  a  woman- 
hater  —  of  course  that  ain't  so,"  he  added,  laughing 
easily  to  himself,  "  but  jest  because  he  don't  spend 
his  time  a-flyin'  'round  with  'em,  they're  bound  to 
resent  it." 

"  And  he  has  never  married,"  the  other  added. 

"  Married !  Well,  I  reckon  not !  He  lives  all  by 
himself  in  a  mighty  fine  house  that  he's  built  up  there 
on  the  hill,  and  if  you  want  to  be  entertained  in  real 
style,  you  must  take  a  meal  with  him,  for  he's  got  the 
finest  cook  in  the  town.  But  as  for  women  —  "  Cap- 
tain Mentdrop  lowered  his  voice  confidentially  and 
drew  closer  to  the  stranger.  "  You  know  it  kinder 
worries  me,  but  I  can't  make  it  out.  Some  say  he's 
jest  timid,  and  absorbed  in  his  work,  and  then  we  all 
know  he's  mighty  touchy  about  his  bad  leg,  but  for 
the  sakes  of  me,  I  don't  see  why  he  thinks  limpin' 
makes  him  objectionable  to  the  ladies.  I  heard  one 
gal  say  she  thought  it  made  him  lots  more  picture-like, 
and  made  her  think  of  Lord  Byron,  and  you  know 
he  was  a  lady-killer,  right !  " 

"  And  he  is  wealthy,  too,  I  understand." 

"  Well,  I  reckon !  He  made  dead  oodles  of  money 
out  of  a  lawsuit  that  him  and  Judge  Houston  had 
together.  See  that  ridge  south  of  the  town  ?  "  He 
waved  his  hand  in  the  direction.    "  There  was  a  whole 


AFTER  SEVEN  YEARS     179 

lot  of  property  there,  that  was  left  to  a  number  of 
heirs,  and  it  seems  the  whole  crowd  could  never  be 
got  together  to  sign  the  deeds,  so  half  of  'em  signed 
for  the  other  half  and  sold  the  property,  and  when  the 
other  half  turned  up  you  can  see  what  the  mix-up  was. 
Well,  sir,  Sargent  and  old  man  Houston  took  the 
case  for  the  heirs  that  hadn't  signed,  with  the  arrange- 
ment that  they  was  to  get  half.  And  they  did.  That 
put  the  youngster  way  up  in  the  pictures.  He  had 
money  to  burn,  but  I  never  seen  him  do  any  of  them 
blamed  tricks  you  hear  tell  about  down  here.  He 
never  lit  a  cigar  with  a  ten  dollar  bill  like  I've  seen 
some  dern  fools  do.  He's  got  too  much  sense.  Do 
you  know,  I  believe  he's  got  more  learnin'  crammed 
in  his  head  than  any  other  man  I  ever  seen." 

"  He  was  that  way  at  Bowdoin  College.  The  rest 
of  his  class  did  not  have  a  chance." 

11  And  I'm  mightily  afeard  it's  goin'  to  be  the  death 
of  him  yet.  He  over-does  things.  And  after  every 
big  case,  you  can  hear  tell  about  the  crazy  things  he 
does.  Of  course  I  know  how  'tis,  for  he  once  told 
me  that  when  he  got  through  a  case  and  making  a  big 
speech,  he  couldn't  rest  one  minute  —  that  everything 
was  flyin'  round  in  his  head  like  fire,  and  it  takes  him 
a  day  or  two  to  get  quieted  down  again.  It  went 
mighty  hard  with  him  at  first,  he  took  things  so  seri- 
ous-like, and  I  just  found  out  one  day  that  the  thing 
he  needed  worst  in  the  world,  was  to  take  every  blamed 
situation  in  life  with  a  pinch  of  humour.  Well,  sir," 
the  old  fellow  slapped  his  sides  and  let  out  a  gust  of 
laughter,  "  I  soon  found  out  he  had  it  in  him  and 
didn't  know  it.  Since  then  he's  been  makin'  people 
laugh  till  the  tears  roll  down  their  cheeks;   and  then, 


180        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

by.  Jingo,  before  he's  through  they're  cryin'  sure 
enough.  I  thought  I'd  split  my  sides  the  other  night, 
when  a  feller  was  tellin'  about  his  experience  with 
him  in  a  country  tavern,  away  off  in  the  back- 
woods." 

The  Captain  spread  his  legs  apart  and  rammed  his 
hands  deep  into  his  pockets.  When  a  fresh  Havana 
was  between  his  lips  he  was  completely  at  his  ease. 
"  Seems  like  Sargent  had  a  big  case  down  there, 
wherever  it  was,"  he  continued,  "  and  after  it  was  all 
over,  he  had  to  spend  the  night  in  a  room  with  another 
feller  —  the  tavern  was  so  crowded.  Well,  sir,  in  the 
middle  of  the  night,  it  seems  that  his  bed-feller  was 
mightily  put  out  by  a  gallaniper  peckin'  at  him.  He 
raised  such  a  racket  about  it  that  Sargent  told  him  to 
shut  up  and  let  him  go  to  sleep  —  that  the  thing 
wouldn't  bite  him  if  it  wan't  for  his  good.  Mighty 
poor  comfort  to  the  other  feller,  I  says.  Anyhow  the 
feller  got  up  and  caught  it,  and  showed  it  to  Sargent. 
Then,  bless  you,  both  of  'em  got  up  and  argued 
whether  it  was  good  or  bad  for  gallanipers  to  be  in 
the  world.  Nothin'  would  suit  Sargent  but  that  they 
settle  the  question  by  law.  So  they  went  all  over  the 
tavern  at  three  o'clock  in  the  mornin',  mind  you,  and 
waked  up  everybody  until  they  got  twelve  men  to 
come  to  their  room,  and  sit  like  a  jury  while  they 
argued  the  case.  It  must  'a'  been  rich !  "  The  old 
fellow  stopped,  overcome  by  laughter,  while  the  tears 
rolled  down  his  cheeks.  "  Can't  you  see  'em?  Twelve 
sleepy  men,  all  sittin'  in  a  row  in  their  night-shirts, 
while  two  lunatic  lawyers  went  into  vigorous  ha- 
rangues. It  must  'a'  been  side-splittin'.  They  say 
Sargent  placed  a  table  before  the  jury,  put  the  galla- 


AFTER  SEVEN  YEARS     181 

niper  under  a  tumbler  on  the  table,  and  made  every- 
body take  a  look  at  it.  Then  his  companion  began 
the  prosecution,  while  he  spoke  in  defence.  They  tell 
me  that  by  that  time  the  whole  tavern  had  adjourned 
to  that  room,  and  they  kept  up  the  argument  till  broad 
daylight." 

"  So  Sargent  has  developed  a  talent  for  humour?  " 
laughed  the  newcomer. 

"  Humour  —  well,  I  reckon !  He's  got  a-plenty  of 
it.  In  fact,  and  this  is  strictly  between  you  and  me  — 
it's  his  humour  that  makes  him  so  popular.  That's 
what  brings  him  close  to  the  people ;  and  if  he  didn't 
have  it,  he'd  be  too  far  away  and  above  all  the  rest 
of  us  common,  ordinary  folks."  The  old  fellow's  face 
softened  suddenly.  "  Sometimes  when  I've  talked  to 
him  a  while,"  he  continued  in  a  quiet  voice,  "  I  go  back 
to  my  boat  and  stay  out  on  her  all  by  myself  at  night, 
wondering  if  just  knowing  him  hasn't  done  me  a  pow- 
erful lot  o'  good."  The  Captain's  eyes  grew  almost 
wistful,  even  the  steely  twinkle  growing  gentle  and 
kindly.  "  Jest  to  show  you,"  he  went  on,  "  I  told  him 
I  was  goin'  to  leave  him  every  cent  I  had,  and  d'you 
know,  he  said  not  to  do  that  —  that  he  had  enough, 
and  there  was  a  world  of  people  that  needed  it.  So, 
together,  we've  fixed  it  to  go  to  an  orphan  asylum  in 
New  'leans.  That's  the  first  man  it's  been  my  luck 
to  meet  that  ever  refused  to  take  a  red  cent.  Whoa! 
there." 

In  a  second  the  whole  aspect  of  the  Captain  changed, 
as  he  strode  forward  to  the  front  of  the  deck  and  called 
out  directions  for  the  landing  of  the  boat. 

In  the  interest  of  his  discussion  the  boat  had  gone 
many  feet  beyond  the  landing,  and  in  the  chagrin  of 


182        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

his  preoccupation,  the  old  fellow  made  the  air  about 
him  resound  with  a  splendid  outburst  of  oaths. 

"  It  jest  goes  to  prove,"  he  said  to  himself,  when 
the  ropes  had  been  swung  over  the  piles  and  the  boat 
was  settling  easily  against  the  wharf.  "  It  jest  goes 
to  prove  that  I'm  gettin'  old  and  played  out  —  standin' 
up  here  a-talkin'  about  a  blamed  lawyer,  and  lettin' 
my  boat  slide  clean  past  the  landin'.     Shucks !  " 


CHAPTER    II 

THE    VOICE    OF    THE    PAST 

Judge  Houston  was  in  the  crowd  that  day  that 
lined  the  wharf,  impatient  to  board  the  new  boat. 
No  one  was  in  more  gala  attire  than  he,  with  a  fresh 
ribbon  on  his  queue,  wearing  a  suit  of  fine  blue  linen, 
so  stiffly  starched  that  the  tails  of  his  long  coat  stood 
far  out  on  each  side  of  him,  and  in  his  lapel,  to  give 
a  finishing  touch  to  his  Colonial  appearance,  Mrs. 
Houston  had  placed,  with  characteristic  precision,  a 
pink  japonica. 

It  was  a  great  day  to  both  of  them,  and  often,  as 
the  boat  drew  nearer,  the  old  gentleman  would  smile 
sweetly  toward  his  wife,  who  was  waiting  by  his  side. 
Seven  years  had  passed  over  them  lightly,  the  touches 
of  age  showing  more  like  caresses  than  cares ;  leaving 
snow-white  hair  instead  of  flecked  grey;  touching 
their  features  with  many  fine  lines,  so  full  of  charac- 
ter and  accomplishment,  that,  as  they  came,  one  won- 
dered over  all  they  meant.  Only,  perhaps,  in  the  stoop 
of  the  shoulders,  in  the  sometimes  trembling  hand, 
and  the  heavy  stick  upon  which  he  always  rested,  did 
the  old  gentleman's  friends  see  the  encroachments  of 
age.  It  was  only  in  that,  however,  for  his  eyes  were 
as  clear  and  blue  as  they  had  always  been,  shedding 
about  him  even  more  sympathy  and  benignity.  His 
wife,  the  one  who  had  stood  beside  him  from  the  first 

183 


184        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

days  of  their  pioneer  voyage,  had  grown  along  with 
him  into  the  realm  of  approaching  shadows,  not  lag- 
ging behind  nor  rushing  before,  but  beside  him  hand 
in  hand  as  they  had  always  been. 

A  little  distance  from  the  wharf,  seated  in  a  high- 
swung  chariot  of  modish  trappings,  sat  Lemuel  Jer- 
vais  and  his  wife. 

Mrs.  Jervais  watched  the  approaching  boat  with 
mingled  pride  and  apprehension.  Her  thoughts  were 
travelling  backward  over  the  years  that  had  passed 
since  she  had  sent  the  little  girl  so  far  away.  They 
had  never  loved  each  other;  Mrs.  Jervais  seeing  in 
Natalia  too  many  of  the  characteristics  of  her  hus- 
band's first  wife,  to  be  drawn  to  the  child,  and  Natalia 
realizing  this  and  shrinking  from  it.  "  But  she  had 
done  her  duty,"  Mrs.  Jervais  sighed  contentedly  as  she 
viewed  the  approaching  boat.  "  She  had  seen  that  the 
plantations  brought  Natalia  an  income  that  left  no 
wish  unsatisfied.  But  now,"  she  mused,  "  Natalia 
was  no  longer  a  child,  she  was  coming  back  a  woman, 
and  a  woman  who  seemed  to  have  suddenly  become 
imbued  with  the  memories  of  her  childhood  and  a 
desire  to  visit  her  old  home  again." 

For  several  years  Natalia's  letters  had  dwindled, 
until  recently  they  had  become  merely  notes  of  thanks 
in  reference  to  the  management  of  the  estate  and  a 
few  lines  about  her  plans.  Then,  quite  without  warn- 
ing, a  letter  had  come  to  Mrs.  Jervais  from  her,  in 
which  she  had  told  of  her  approaching  marriage,  and 
of  her  wish  to  return  to  her  home  for  that  occasion. 
"  Probably  you  will  think  it  strange,"  the  letter  read, 
"  when  I  tell  you  I  want  to  be  married  in  my  old  home. 
It  does  seem  a  long  journey  to  make  for  such  a  short 


THE    VOICE    OF    THE    PAST      185 

visit,  especially  as  Morgan  and  I  shall  make  Boston 
our  home;  but  in  thinking  about  the  dear,  old  place 
that  has  come  down  to  me  from  my  Spanish  ancestors, 
the  idea  has  taken  possession  of  me  that  I  would  like 
my  marriage  to  be  solemnized  amid  those  surround- 
ings. Uncle  Felix  would  call  it  quixotic  in  me,  I  know, 
and  at  the  same  time,  understand ;  I  feel  sure  that  you 
appreciate  my  sentiment  in  regard  to  the  old  place,  too, 
and  that  will  explain  better  than  words  what  I  am 
going  to  ask  of  you. 

"  I  want  you  to  help  me  in  arranging  the  wedding. 
You  wrote  that  the  house  had  been  closed  ever  since 
your  marriage  to  Mr.  Jervais,  so  do  not  go  to  much 
trouble  in  fixing  it  up.  Left  to  my  own  wishes,  the 
wedding  would  be  simple,  but  Morgan  insists  that  it 
be  elaborate,  as  it  will  be  my  only  wedding  —  he  hopes. 
Perhaps  it  is  only  right  that  I  should  ask  all  our  old 
friends,  indeed,  I  want  them  about  me  at  that  time. 
It  is  a  time  in  a  girl's  life  when  such  things  count  most, 
and  I  feel  that  it  will  start  me  out  on  my  new  life 
happier  for  carrying  away  as  many  dear  memories  as 
possible;   so  ask  every  one  we  used  to  know. 

"  Of  course  I  need  not  mention  that  I  want  you  and 
Mr.  Jervais  to  be  the  hosts  for  me,  and  stay  at  the 
old  home  until  the  wedding  —  after  that  I  shall  not 
keep  you,  for  it  is  my  idea  to  spend  our  honeymoon 
there,  Morgan  and  I  alone  in  the  sweet  old  place.  I 
am  writing  Aunt  Maria  also,  and  I  know  she  will  be 
glad  to  help  you  all  she  can.  Be  sure  to  insist  upon 
her  making  the  wedding  cake  —  one  of  those  wonder- 
ful, tall  affairs  which  I  remember  so  well.  In  reading 
over  what  I  have  written,  I  can  not  help  wondering 
if  I  have  asked  too  much  of  you;  but  then,  you  must 


186        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

remember,  there  is  no  one  else  except  the  boys,  and 
they  are  much  too  interested  in  college  even  to  go 
down  there  with  me.  I  could  go  on  indefinitely  with 
plans  —  but  I  shall  wait  until  we  meet,  to  tell  you 
everything." 

The  letter  had  caused  no  end  of  consternation  in 
the  town.  Mrs.  Jervais  had  driven,  the  day  it  came, 
to  Mrs.  Houston,  finding  the  old  lady  holding  a  sim- 
ilar letter  in  her  lap  and  weeping  copiously  over  the 
news  it  contained.  Together  they  had  driven  out  to 
the  old  house  and  opened  it  once  more  to  the  golden 
warmth  of  the  June  sun.  A  corps  of  slaves  was 
brought  from  the  cotton  fields,  back  to  their  former 
quarters,  and  in  so  short  a  time  it  seemed  like  magic, 
the  old  home  of  the  Spaniards  shone  resplendent  again. 
The  garden  was  put  in  trim  shape  and  the  broad  drive 
to  the  gate  was  cleared  of  the  weeds  that  had  so  long 
grown  in  neglected  luxuriance. 

Invitations  were  sent  out  broadcast,  and  for  many 
days  garrets  were  being  ransacked,  and  old  brocades 
and  laces  that  had  lain  idle  for  a  generation  or  more 
were  again  brought  to  life  to  do  duty  for  such  a  grand 
occasion.  It  was  an  exceptional  time  for  the  gossips, 
and  when  the  report  spread  over  the  town  that  all  the 
refreshments  were  coming  from  a  distance,  and  that 
it  was  actually  a  fact  that  the  fiddlers  were  to  be 
brought  up  from  New  Orleans,  the  whole  place  thrilled 
with  expectancy. 

At  last  the  day  of  the  arrival  came.  As  the  boat 
eased  itself  against  the  wharf  and  the  great  ropes  were 
thrown  ashore  and  made  fast,  Judge  Houston  stepped 
forward  and  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand.  At  last 
his  face  lighted  up  with  a  smile  as  he  saw  the  face 


THE    VOICE    OF   THE    PAST      187 

of  the  little  girl  peering  out  of  the  crowd  of  passengers. 
She  was  just  as  he  had  remembered  her  —  yet 
strangely  different,  too.  There  were  the  same  beau- 
tiful grey  eyes,  grown  darker  with  the  years,  still  full 
of  a  sympathy  that  had  deepened  through  the  wide 
outlook  of  travel  and  experience;  there  was  still  the 
delicate  oval  of  the  face ;  the  rich,  creamy  complexion, 
as  smooth  and  flawless  as  in  childhood;  the  hair,  if 
possible,  blacker,  and  worn  parted  and  brought  back 
over  the  ears  and  coiled  low  on  the  neck.  The  sprite- 
like look  of  the  child  still  clung  to  her,  for  even  in 
the  voluminous  folds  of  her  fashionable  frock,  her 
figure  showed  fragile  and  lithe  and  gracefully  poised ; 
and  as  she  walked  down  the  stage  plank,  her  face  bent 
forward  intently  searching  for  a  familiar  face,  the  old 
man  knew  that  the  little  girl  had  come  back  dearer 
to  them  than  ever  before. 

Natalia  rushed  into  his  arms,  when  she  had  seen 
him,  her  eyes  searching  his  face  and  lingering  on  every 
feature  as  the  memories  crowded  about  her  thick  and 
overflowing.     Neither  of  them  had  said  a  word. 

"  Natalia !  Natalia !  "  the  old  gentleman  finally 
spoke,  holding  her  a  little  way  from  him.  "  I  believe 
you  are  the  same  little  girl.    Changed  ?    Not  one  bit !  " 

"  Yes,  Uncle  Felix,"  Natalia  answered,  smiling 
through  tear-dimmed  eyes,  "  the  same  little  girl  — 
but  changed  —  a  great  deal.  Oh !  "  and  she  broke 
away  to  embrace  Mrs.  Houston.  "  And  Morgan, 
where  are  you  ?  This  is  Uncle  Felix  and  Aunt  Maria ; 
and  this  is  Millicent  Talbot,  Aunt  Maria  —  and  Mor- 
gan's brother,  Joel.  Aren't  we  a  large  family  party? 
And  where  are  the  Jervais?    Oh,  I  see  them  coming." 

Mrs.  Jervais  came  forward  with  outstretched  arms. 


188        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

Evidently  the  past  was  bringing  her  and  Natalia  closer 
than  they  had  ever  expected.  Then  came  Lemuel 
Jervais,  a  portly  man  of  forty,  handsome  and  more 
affably  haughty  than  ever. 

"  And  there's  the  old  carriage !  How  good  of  you 
to  bring  it  out !  "  Natalia  cried,  with  a  grateful  glance 
at  Mrs.  Jervais.  "  And  bless  my  heart  —  if  it  isn't 
old  Zebby  on  the  box !  Zebby !  Zebby !  "  she  called 
aloud,  pushing  her  way  through  the  crowd  and  run- 
ning towards  the  carriage.  "  Zebby !  Zebby !  Isn't 
it  wonderful?  Hasn't  it  been  a  long  time?"  She 
clasped  both  his  hands  as  the  old  negro  almost  fell 
from  the  box  to  reach  her.  "  And  Mammy  Dicey, 
Zebby,  where  is  she?  Why  didn't  she  come  to  meet 
me?  The  mean  old  thing!  I  wouldn't  treat  her  this 
way." 

Zebediah's  face  fell  at  the  mention  of  Dicey's  name, 
and  he  made  a  great  fuss  at  opening  the  carriage  door. 

There  were  three  carriages  to  carry  them,  and  Mrs. 
Jervais  insisted  that  Natalia  should  ride  in  her  new, 
smart  one,  but  Natalia  had  already  urged  Judge  Hous- 
ton and  his  wife  and  Morgan  into  the  old  one  Zebe- 
diah  commanded,  into  which  she  quickly  followed. 

"  Now,  Zebby,"  she  cried  breathlessly,  sinking  back 
into  the  seat.  "  Drive  very,  very  slowly,  and  let  me 
see  everything." 

So  they  started  up  the  hill,  the  other  carriages  fol- 
lowing, and  a  procession  of  wagons  which  were  to 
bring  the  trunks  and  all  the  wonderful  wedding  deli- 
cacies that  had  come  on  the  same  boat. 

Natalia  was  exclaiming,  laughing,  and  often  tears 
were  standing  in  her  eyes,  as  they  drove  along.  Point- 
ing out  familiar  old  buildings  to  Talbot  and  asking 


THE    VOICE    OF    THE    PAST      189 

Mrs.  Houston  and  the  Judge  a  thousand  questions, 
they  passed  through  the  town  where  many  curious 
glances  were  cast  towards  the  bride. 

Not  until  the  town  was  left  behind  and  the  river 
was  showing  now  and  then  through  the  rifts  in  the 
trees,  did  Natalia  grow  calmer.  Where  the  road  to 
the  house  met  the  highway,  she  suddenly  called  to 
Zebediah  to  stop. 

"  I  want  to  get  out  and  walk  to  the  house,  Aunt 
Maria,"  she  explained.  "  It  will  come  back  to  me 
gradually  then;  I  don't  want  to  hurry  or  miss  any- 
thing. Come  with  me,  Morgan  ?  "  Talbot  helped  her 
out  and  in  a  few  moments  they  stood  alone  in  the  road, 
the  other  carriages  having  passed  on.  "  I  love  this 
place  very,  very  dearly,  Morgan,"  Natalia  said,  slip- 
ping her  hand  through  his  arm  and  walking  slowly. 
"  It  is  where  my  father  and  mother  were  very  happy. 
It  is  where  I  was  the  most  unhappy  —  and  the  hap- 
piest of  little  girls,  and  now  —  it  is  where  my  perfect 
happiness  will  come  to  me.  I  have  felt  all  through  my 
life  that  this  old  place  would  mean  everything  to  me 
one  day  —  that  all  that  was  worth  while  would  hap- 
pen to  me  here.  And  it  will,"  she  ended,  smiling  up 
at  him,  M  for  we  are  to  spend  our  honeymoon  here." 

Morgan  Talbot  looked  before  him  intently,  curious 
to  see  what  manner  of  place  it  was  that  held  his  sweet- 
heart's love  so  deeply.  And  as  he  looked  through  the 
dense  shade  of  the  trees  to  the  wide  open  gate  and 
beyond  to  the  gleaming  columns,  he  felt  the  charm  of 
the  old  world  surroundings  creep  over  him.  Turning 
finally  towards  Natalia  and  meeting  her  look,  anxious 
for  his  approval,  he  saw  with  a  sudden  flash  of  insight. 
that  the  girl  before  him  —  intense,  passionate,   and 


190        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

oddly  beautiful  —  was  the  culmination  of  the  old 
house  and  all  that  had  gone  before. 

"  It  is  beautiful,  Natalia,"  he  said  softly,  drawing 
her  closer  to  him.     "  It  is  more  than  you  told  me." 

"  And  you  will  love  it  with  me,  Morgan?  " 

"  I  shall  love  it  because  it  is  a  part  of  you." 

They  were  directly  before  the  iron  gate  now. 
Everything  was  very  still  in  the  glowing  warmth  of 
the  sunshine.  Natalia  leaned  against  the  gate,  and 
drank  in  the  view  like  a  thirsty  traveller.  It  spoke 
eloquently  of  the  coming  in  and  going  out  of  the  many 
who  had  gone  before  her,  and  of  her  own  days,  too ; 
and  as  she  gazed  at  it,  little  incidents  of  her  childhood 
—  long  forgotten  but  safely  stored  away,  came  for- 
ward and  made  their  bows  and  claimed  her  attention. 
The  scene  suddenly  became  peopled  to  her.  Every- 
thing was  significant.  The  depths  of  the  magnolia 
grove  were  filled  with  mysterious  ghosts  of  the  past, 
and  the  red  tiles  of  the  roof,  gleaming  just  above  the 
dark  line  of  the  trees,  called  to  her  with  the  cry  of 
familiar  voices.  The  present  slipped  entirely  from 
her  under  the  rush  of  the  pent-up  memories  crowding 
about  on  all  sides. 

"  Shall  we  walk  on  now?  " 

The  voice  of  her  lover  startled  her.  She  looked 
up  at  him  and  smiled  vaguely. 

"Isn't  it  beautiful,  Morgan?  I  wish  you  could 
see  it  as  I  do.  Everything  means  so  much  to  me  that 
it  can  never  mean  for  you.  It  makes  me  sad,  dear, 
that  you  did  not  know  it  with  me." 

Talbot  laughed  down  into  her  intense  eyes.  "  It 
is  happiness  enough  for  me  to  know  you  now  —  why 
bother  about  what  has  gone  before  ?  " 


THE    VOICE    OF    THE    PAST      191 

Natalia  did  not  answer  for  a  moment.  "  Perhaps 
you  do  not  understand,  Morgan,  or  perhaps  the  old 
characteristics  of  my  childhood  are  coming  back  to 
me.  Do  you  know,  they  used  to  call  me  '  peculiar  '  ? 
I  wasn't  like  other  children." 

"  I  know  —  you  were  so  much  more  beautiful." 

"  That  reminds  me,"  Natalia  laughed,  with  a  sud- 
den change  of  mood,  "  of  how  dreadfully  afraid  I  was 
that  I  would  not  be  good-looking  when  I  grew  up. 
There  was  only  one  person  who  really  comforted  me 
about  it,  and  he  always  insisted  that  my  claim  to  a 
goodly  appearance  would  not  disappear  with  age." 

"  That  was  a  man  who  knew  the  standards  of 
beauty.  I  should  like  to  meet  him.  What  was  his 
name?  " 

"  You  will  laugh  when  I  tell  you.  It  was  Sargent 
Everett." 

"  Dear  old  Sargent !  "  Talbot  exclaimed,  his  face 
lighting  up  with  pleasure.  "  I  wonder  if  he  got  my 
letter.  The  Captain  on  the  boat  is  a  great  friend  of 
Sargent's.  He  told  me  a  great  deal  about  him,  but 
he  said  he  was  not  here  now.  Wouldn't  it  be  unfor- 
tunate if  he  were  not  at  our  wedding?  Did  you  ask 
any  one  if  he  would  be  here  ?  " 

"No  —  I  didn't  ask,"  Natalia  answered  slowly. 
"  It's  very  odd  —  I  haven't  thought  of  him  for  a 
long  time;  not  since  you  said  you  were  going  to 
write  him  about  our  wedding.  Did  you  receive  an 
answer?  " 

"No  —  I  did  not  have  time.  I  didn't  expect  one 
until  I  saw  him  here." 

"  I  wonder  if  he  has  forgotten  me,"  Natalia  mur- 
mured, sinking  on  the  bench  near  the  gate,  and  mo- 


192        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

tioning  Talbot  to  the  seat  beside  her.  "  Let's  sit  down 
here  for  a  while.  You  don't  mind  my  dreaming  aloud 
to  you,  do  you  ?  " 

His  arm  slipped  about  her  until  her  head  rested 
against  his  shoulder,  and  her  eyes  closed  for  a  moment 
as  if  she  had  suddenly  grown  weary. 

"  No,  indeed,  dear,  dream  all  you  want,  and  tell 
me  about  your  old  school  days  with  Sargent.  Aren't 
you  proud  that  your  tutor  has  become  so  celebrated  ?  " 

"  I  knew  he  would  be,  some  day,  for  even  when  I 
knew  him  he  was  a  wonderful  speaker.  I  never  heard 
him  make  but  one  speech  —  it  was  beautiful  and  aw- 
ful —  all  in  one.  I  cried  for  weeks  afterwards  when- 
ever I  thought  of  it.  And  now,  Morgan,  I  am  going 
to  make  you  terribly  jealous.  I'm  going  to  tell  you 
something  that  will  surprise  you  very  much." 

She  looked  up  at  him,  her  eyes  narrowing  with  the 
quaint  habit  of  childhood. 

"  You  are  not  my  first  love." 

She  straightened  up  and  faced  him,  finally  breaking 
into  her  soft,  merry  laugh.  "  I  was  desperately  in 
love  with  Sargent  Everett  once." 

"  Seven  years  ago,"  Talbot  answered  lightly.  "  I 
can  hear  about  it  calmly  —  now/' 

"  But  it  was  very  serious,"  Natalia  insisted.  "  I 
really  was  in  earnest,  and  after  he  left  our  house  and 
fought  a  duel,  he  became  a  real  hero  to  me.  It  was 
terrible  when  we  had  to  part.  I  just  made  up  my  mind 
to  die.  But  you  see  —  I  didn't,"  sighing  happily. 
"  And  the  night  before  I  went  away  I  made  my  old 
Mammy  take  me  to  him  so  I  could  say  good-bye.  I 
made  him  swear  not  to  forget  me,  for  I  was  coming 
back  a  beautiful  woman  some  day  and  would  expect 


THE    VOICE    OF    THE    PAST      193 

him  to  marry  me.  You  can  imagine  how  terribly 
smitten  I  was !  " 

"  And  at  twelve !    Did  he  promise  ?  " 

"  Indeed  he  did,  and  said  I  could  not  come  back 
more  beautiful  than  I  was  at  that  moment.  Then  I 
kissed  him,  Morgan,  and  he  said  I  must  send  for  him, 
even  if  it  were  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  if  I  ever  needed 
him.  So  we  plighted  our  troth  and  parted.  It  was  all 
just  like  a  fairy  book,  and  it  seems  hundreds  of  years 
ago.  We  used  to  walk  right  along  here  together. 
You  see  his  mother  was  a  long  way  off,  up  in  Maine, 
and  mine  was  gone  for  ever,  and  that  drew  us  very 
close  together.  Seriously,  Morgan,  I  loved  him  very 
dearly.  The  day  I  went  away  I  sent  him  a  miniature 
of  myself,  all  in  a  locket  with  a  chain,  and  told  Mammy 
to  tell  him  to  keep  it  before  him  always.  It  was  only 
when  I  became  so  occupied  in  school,  and  growing 
up,  that  I  finally  forgot  all  about  him.  Then,  since 
I've  known  you,  the  past  seems  to  have  counted  for 
very  little  with  me  —  until  to-day."  Her  words  ended 
softly,  and  for  a  moment  silence  fell  between  them. 

"  I  believe  I  shall  get  jealous  if  you  go  on  talking 
much  more  about  old  Sargent."  Talbot  leaned  over 
and  looked  into  her  face,  smiling.  "  Really,  did  you 
think  that  you  loved  Sargent  ?  I  can't  get  used  to  the 
idea,"  he  laughed.  "  And  to  think  of  Sargent  Everett 
being  in  love  with  anybody !  He  was  always  too  deep 
in  books  when  I  knew  him.  It  would  be  very  easy 
to  realize  that  people  would  love  him  —  all  of  us  did 
at  school.  But  somehow,  I  always  felt  that  people  did 
not  mean  much  to  him." 

At  his  words,  Natalia  drew  herself  away  in  mock 
hauteur.     "  Am  I  to  infer,  sir,  that  you  understand 


194        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

why  I  should  have  loved  him,  but  not  how  he  could 
have  loved  me  ?  " 

Morgan  drew  her  hands  into  his,  laughing  all  the 
time.  "  Yes,  Natalia,  I'll  wager  if  it  came  to  a  point, 
that  you  were  very  much  more  in  love  with  him  than 
he  was  with  you." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,  Morgan,"  Natalia  an- 
swered his  laugh  happily.  "  But  I  did  love  him  —  I 
assure  you." 

"  And  it  makes  me  wonder  all  the  more  that  you 
fell  in  love  with  me  after  loving  Sargent.  We  are  not 
a  bit  alike.  But  then  I  suppose  you  are  variable  — 
indeed  I  know  you  are.  But  it's  to  be  hoped  that  you 
will  not  be  any  more.  It's  a  wonderful  thing  —  how 
people  do  change  their  loves,  isn't  it?  " 

Natalia's  eyes  narrowed  for  a  moment  as  she  looked 
beyond  the  gate. 

"  Don't  try  to  analyze  love,"  she  replied.  "  I  tried 
once  and  it  did  no  good.  I  always  came  back  to  the 
point  that  I  loved  you  and  nothing  else  mattered.  How 
did  I  fall  in  love  with  you  ?  "  She  repeated  the  words 
after  him,  taking  hold  of  his  hand  and  counting  his 
fingers  as  she  narrated  her  reasons.  "  Well  —  first, 
it  must  have  been  your  frank  admiration  that  touched 
me  —  I  am  always  very  sensitive  to  admiration. 
Then,  you  look  upon  life  with  so  bright  an  eye,  so 
smilingly,  that  it  makes  me  feel  safe  and  contented 
to  know  that  my  own  too  sensitive  nature  will  bloom 
under  your  brightness.  It's  the  contrast,  Morgan, 
that's  it.  You  give  me  what  I  have  not.  You  meet 
a  demand  of  my  nature.  It  is  that  which  makes  the 
perfect  love." 

Talbot  looked  at  her  a  moment,  his  face  grown 


THE    VOICE    OF    THE    PAST      195 

serious  and  almost  sad.  "  It  is  not  my  own  happiness 
that  I  ever  think  of  —  there  is  only  one  thing  that 
could  ruin  that  for  me  —  losing  you,"  he  said,  Na- 
talia's hand  still  clasped  in  his  own.  "  But  when  I 
think  of  the  great  difference  between  us,  I  wonder  if 
it  is  possible  for  me  to  make  you  happy.  I  love  gaiety 
and  the  world,  and  people,  and  deep  down  in  your 
heart,  I  don't  believe  you  do.  x-\nd  I  can't  help  think- 
ing that  you  do  many  things  for  my  sake,  isn't  it 
so?" 

Natalia  shook  her  head  slowly,  and  smiled.  "  No, 
I'm  not  doing  a  thing  for  you,  Morgan,  that  doesn't 
give  me  pleasure.  Don't  try  to  find  flaws  in  our  love, 
or  search  for  some  hidden  reason  for  unhappiness. 
It's  too  perfect  as  it  is,  and  I  love  you  better,  Morgan 
dear,  when  you  are  not  attempting  an  analytical  state 
of  mind."  She  laughed  at  him  gayly.  "  You're  the 
old-fashioned  lover  who  brings  nosegays  to  his  lady- 
love, and  writes  her  billet-doux,  and  is  always  telling 
her  how  beautiful  she  is  —  that  is  why  I  love  you 
so,  Morgan.  That  has  always  been  my  ideal  of  a 
lover  since  I  was  a  little  girl.  Be  that  way  always, 
please.  Now  shall  we  walk  on  towards  the  house? 
Oh,  look,  the  magnolias  have  put  on  their  wedding 
garments  to  do  us  honour.     They  are  in  full  bloom !  " 

They  passed  through  the  gate  and  into  the  shadow 
of  the  grove  where  the  trees  were  filled  with  gorgeous 
white  velvety  blossoms,  and  where  in  the  dream  shad- 
ows they  lingered  awhile. 

They  came  finally  upon  the  others  grouped  in  the 
shade  of  the  deep  veranda,  where  Lemuel  Jervais  was 
playing  the  part  of  host  by  mixing  them  his  famous 
sangaree,  and  Mrs.  Houston  was  insisting  that  every 


196        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

one  should  have  at  least  three  slices  of  her  equally 
famous  jelly  cake. 

Morgan  and  Natalia  looked  at  them  from  the  pro- 
tection of  a  column  until  Millicent  Talbot  spied  them. 
"  Well  —  you'd  better  hurry  or  you'll  miss  the  party," 
she  called  to  them.  "  We  thought  you  were  lost.  I 
was  sure  Natalia  had  forgotten  the  way." 

"  No,  I  was  only  dreaming  aloud  to  Morgan,  over 
the  old  days.  He  was  very  kind  and  listened,  for  all 
the  world  as  if  he  were  not  bored.  I'll  not  do  it  often, 
though,  for  fear  it  might  get  monotonous.  You  don't 
know  how  beautiful  everything  looks,"  Natalia  con- 
tinued, putting  her  arm  about  Mrs.  Jervais'  waist. 
"  How  good  of  you  to  do  it  all  for  me."  Suddenly 
she  stopped  and  looked  about  the  group,  then  made 
a  step  towards  the  open  hall  door.  "  Do  you  know," 
she  said,  with  a  catch  in  her  voice,  that  showed  her 
fear,  "  I  have  let  all  this  time  go  by,  and  haven't 
seen  Mammy  Dicey  yet.  Poor  old  soul  —  is  she  very 
feeble  ?  Where  is  she  ?  I  know  she  is  anxiously  wait- 
ing for  me." 

For  a  few  minutes  silence  fell  upon  every  one,  while 
Natalia  searched  each  face  for  an  answer.  At  last 
when  her  eyes  began  to  fill  with  tears  over  the  cer- 
tainty that  she  was  never  to  see  her  old  nurse  again, 
Mrs.  Houston  rose,  and  casting  a  swift  glance  at  Mrs. 
Jervais,  led  Natalia  a  little  way  from  the  others. 
When  they  had  reached  the  front  door,  quite  beyond 
hearing  of  the  others,  Natalia  stopped  and  faced  Mrs. 
Houston. 

"  Is  she  dead  ?  "  she  exclaimed  in  a  low  voice.  "  I 
shall  never  forgive  myself  for  not  writing  to  her  more. 
Poor  old  Mammy !  " 


THE    VOICE    OF    THE    PAST      197 

"  No,  she  is  not  dead,"  Mrs.  Houston  answered, 
hesitating  a  moment  over  the  information,  "  but  she 
is  not  here  any  more." 

Natalia's  brows  wrinkled  in  bewilderment.  "  Not 
here!  But  she  belonged  to  me!  Surely  she  is  not 
hired  to  any  one  ?  " 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Natalia.  She  did  not  belong 
to  you,  as  we  all  thought.  She  was  included  in  the 
property  your  father  left  his  wife.  Felix  looked  up 
the  matter  and  found  it  that  way.  When  you  were 
sent  away  —  " 

"  Yes  ?  "  Natalia  asked,  breathlessly. 

"  Mrs.  Jervais  sold  her.  You  know  she  never  liked 
her,  and  as  soon  as  the  opportunity  was  propitious  I 
suppose  she  thought  it  would  be  better  for  them  to 
separate.  Of  course  she  never  had  an  idea  you  would 
care  one  way  or  the  other." 

Natalia  lifted  her  head  suddenly,  while  the  colour 
mounted  to  her  cheeks ;  her  eyes  flashed  and  her  lips 
trembled  in  quick  anger.  "  She  did  belong  to  me ! 
I  know  it !  My  father  told  me  so  when  he  was  dying. 
It  was  a  trick  she  played  to  get  Mammy  away  from 
me. 

Mrs.  Houston  stared  into  the  passionate  face  be- 
fore her,  startled  as  the  resemblance  to  the  little  girl 
of  earlier  days  became  so  vivid.  If  Natalia  had  only 
stamped  her  foot,  as  of  old,  the  likeness  would  have 
been  identical. 

*  My  dear  child,"  the  old  lady  expostulated  in  a 
lowered  voice.  "  Please  don't  take  it  that  way.  I'm 
sure  you  misjudge  her.  Even  if  it  is  true,  don't  say 
anything  now,  —  not  until  after  the  wedding.  She 
has  really  done  a  great  deal  for  you." 


198        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

Natalia  leaned  forward  and  kissed  the  old  lady. 
"  Of  course  I'll  behave,  dear  Aunt  Maria,"  her  voice 
controlled,  but  tears  still  in  her  eyes.  "  But  I  loved 
Mammy  so.  To  have  anything  happen  to  her,  or  for 
her  to  suffer  hurts  me  like  it  would  myself."  Then 
eagerly,  "  But  I  can  buy  her  back.  Do  you  know  who 
owns  her?  " 

Mrs.  Houston  looked  away,  smiling  vaguely. 
11  Some  one  who  has  found  her  too  valuable  to  part 
with,  I'm  thinking." 

"  Who  ?  "  Natalia  murmured,  her  eagerness  disap- 
pearing in  her  greater  disappointment. 

The  keen  old  lady  watched  the  vivid  face  before 
her,  searching  it  with  a  sudden  earnestness  when  she 
answered,  "  Sargent  Everett  owns  her  now." 


CHAPTER    III 

MAMMY   DICEY'S    STORY 

Natalia  stood  on  the  front  veranda  after  dinner, 
leaving  the  others  gathered  about  the  table,  the  men 
sipping  their  Madeira,  and  discussing  the  admission 
of  the  Lone  Star  State  to  the  Union,  and  the  wonder- 
ful new  invention  of  the  magnetic  telegraph;  while 
the  ladies  pulled  their  rocking  chairs  close  together 
and  went  into  the  minutest  details  of  the  wedding. 

Morgan  had  risen  with  Natalia,  following  her  out 
of  the  room,  but  she  had  sent  him  back,  pleading  as 
an  excuse  that  she  wished  to  be  alone  to  live  over  once 
more  in  memory  the  incidents  of  her  childhood.  So 
many  things  had  lain  dormant  through  the  years  al- 
most forgotten  in  the  rush  and  interest  of  the  life  about 
her,  that  she  felt  dazed  into  a  mood  of  introspection 
when  she  found  herself  once  more  in  the  surroundings 
of  the  long  ago. 

She  sighed  aloud  when  Morgan  had  gone  back  into 
the  house,  and  leaning  against  one  of  the  massive  col- 
umns of  the  porch,  felt  a  sensation  of  relief  stealing 
over  her  at  finding  herself  alone.  In  the  flood  of 
re-awakened  memories  there  had  come  to  her  a  feel- 
ing that  Morgan  was  not  a  part  of  them,  could  never 
be,  and  with  this  realization  she  knew  that  in  some 
way  the  bond  of  sympathy  between  them  had,  for 
the  moment,  widened.     He  could  never  feel  with  her 

199 


200         THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

all  the  place  represented;  even  with  years  and  years 
in  the  narration  of  little  incidents,  he  would  still  not 
see  it  as  she  did,  know  what  it  meant  to  her,  nor  find 
in  each  surrounding  the  stories  that  cried  aloud  to 
her.  It  was  the  moment  in  her  love  when  she  realized 
for  the  first  time  that  two  people  can  never  be  zvholly 
one  —  that  a  vast  gulf  of  early  years  and  childhood 
and  dreams  would  always  separate  them,  no  matter 
how  great  became  the  love  of  their  maturer  years. 

So  sensitive  was  she  to  his  moods  and  preferences, 
that  she  had  understood  as  they  lingered  before  the 
gate  and  looked  into  the  grove  of  magnolias,  that  the 
charm  of  the  spot  and  the  happiness  of  a  honeymoon 
spent  in  it  would  be  hers  so  much  more  fully  than  his. 
For  a  little  while  this  realization  had  brought  her 
unhappiness,  and  a  wish  to  be  alone ;  after  her  dreams 
she  knew  that  she  would  go  back  to  her  lover  more 
contented  than  ever  before. 

She  strolled  away  from  the  house,  and  passing  on 
into  the  cool  shadows  of  the  grove,  came  at  last  to  the 
brow  of  the  hill.  Here  she  sat  down  and  leaned 
against  a  tree,  letting  herself  drift  back  across  the 
bridge  of  years. 

In  a  moment  of  restlessness  she  let  down  her  hair 
and  unconsciously  began  braiding  it  in  the  two  long 
plaits  of  her  childhood.  Suddenly  she  found  herself 
laughing  with  the  care-free  merriment  of  a  little  girl. 
It  was  the  same  old  world,  after  all ;  seven  years  had 
made  no  difference,  everything  was  exactly  as  she  had 
left  it. 

Resting  her  hands  back  of  her  head,  her  fingers 
touching  the  cool  bark  of  the  tree  with  a  luxurious 
sensation,  she  gazed  out  through  half  closed  lashes 


MAMMY    DICEY'S    STORY         201 

upon  the  broad,  golden  river  and  the  misty  lowlands 
beyond,  floating  in  the  haze  of  the  languid  June  day. 

Everything  now  was  as  yesterday.  She  was  feeling 
it  all  over  again,  going  over  every  little  incident.  The 
little  log  school-house  recalled  so  vividly  a  dreadful 
example  in  fractions,  and  as  she  worried  over  it  again, 
she  found  herself  listening  for  the  low,  beautiful  voice 
making  it  plain  to  her.  On  and  on  she  drifted  until 
she  felt  once  more  the  presence  of  the  schoolmaster 
and  her  old  adoration  of  him. 

Suddenly  in  the  swirling  of  her  memories  she  halted. 
That  love  of  the  little  girl  made  her  open  her  eyes 
wide.  It  had  been  ideal,  beautiful,  innocent.  Would 
there  be  anything  in  her  life  like  it  again?  Was  that 
which  had  taken  its  place,  equal?  Could  anything 
take  its  place?  Again  the  utter  devotion  of  it  came 
back  to  her;  the  beginning  of  it  in  her  self-anger  for 
wounding  him  the  day  she  had  called  him  the  cripple. 
Ah!  now  she  could  understand  how  she  had  hurt 
him!  Their  first  long  talk  together  where  she  sat 
now;  his  kind,  deep,  hazel  eyes,  changing  Protean- 
like,  as  he  listened  to  her  while  she  recounted  stories 
Dicey  had  told  her  of  her  mother;  his  patience  and 
kindness  through  the  long  school  hours;  the  night 
she  waited  for  his  return,  and  the  fear  that  Phelps 
had  waylaid  him;  that  first  case  when  his  voice  had 
thundered  in  her  ears  and  made  her  shudder;  and 
at  last,  —  the  pain  of  parting  with  him ! 

She  sat  up  quickly  and  stared  about  her.  Why  had 
she  forgotten  all  this?  Why  had  it  not  been  in  her 
thoughts  for  so  many  years  ?  And  he  —  had  he  for- 
gotten also?  Gradually  she  rose  to  her  feet  with  the 
childish  impulse  of  seeking  Dicey,  who  would  answer 


202        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

so  satisfactorily  all  her  questions.  Then  came  the 
clashing  of  reality  against  dreams,  and  unconsciously 
the  tears  rushed  into  her  eyes  for  what  had  gone 
from  her  for  ever. 

But  the  old  yearning  for  her  nurse  remained,  and 
with  a  sudden  determination,  she  walked  quickly 
through  the  grove,  skirting  the  house  and  garden  so 
as  not  to  be  interrupted,  and  made  her  way  to  the 
slaves'  quarters. 

The  door  of  Dicey's  room  stood  open.  On  the 
steps  before  it  sat  two  negro  women  shelling  beans 
into  large  pans.  Natalia  passed  on  quickly,  a  sharp 
pain  in  her  heart  for  the  empty  room  which  used  to 
be  so  crowded  with  happy  moments. 

When  she  came  to  the  barn  she  smiled  again,  for 
there  was  old  Zebediah,  washing  the  carriage  that 
had  brought  them  from  the  boat,  as  familiar  and 
complacent  as  if  there  were  no  such  thing  as  seven 
years  to  pass  by. 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me,  Zebby  ?  "  she  exclaimed, 
without  explanation.  "  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  at 
the  boat?" 

The  old  negro  lifted  his  head  in  dismay. 

"  Wha'  yer  talkin'  'bout,  lil  Miss?" 

"  About  Mammy,  Zebby.  They  tell  me  she  belongs 
to  Mr.  Everett  now." 

"  Yas'm,  she  sho'  do.  I  done  seen  her  day  befo' 
yistiddy." 

"  Did  she  know  I  was  coming?  " 

"  Not  tell  I  done  tole  her." 

"  What  did  she  say,  Zebby?  " 

Zebediah's  hand  went  up  to  his  head,  scratching 
thoughtfully. 


MAMMY    DICEY'S    STORY         203 

"  She  didn'  said  nuthin',  HI  Miss.  She  jest  th'od 
her  apron  ober  her  face  and  went  ter  moanin'." 

Natalia's  lips  suddenly  trembled. 

"  Take  me  there,  Zebby  —  now !  I  want  to  see  her. 
I  can't  wait.    Saddle  the  horse  and  go  with  me." 

But  Zebediah  did  not  respond  to  her  enthusiasm. 
He  stood  staring  at  her  as  if  he  had  not  comprehended 
her  words. 

"  Yer  cyant  go  ter  dat  house,  HI  Miss.  Dar  am' 
nobody  libs  dar  'ceptin'  Marse  Everett.  Dar  am' 
no  lady  fo'ks  in  de  house." 

"  I  don't  care,  Zebby,"  Natalia  laughed.  "  I'm  not 
going  to  see  him.  I'm  going  to  see  Mammy  Dicey. 
I'll  be  back  in  a  minute,  so  hurry  and  get  the  horses 
ready." 

She  ran  up  the  steps  on  the  back  porch,  and  to  her 
room,  scattering  the  mass  of  clothes  which  had  just 
been  unpacked,  until  she  found  the  riding  habit  she 
was  looking  for.  Very  quietly,  without  meeting  any 
one,  she  went  back  to  the  barn  where  Zebediah  stood 
holding  the  horses,  and  showing  his  row  of  fine  white 
teeth  in  a  smile  of  admiration  and  pleasure. 

"  Yer  ain't  er  bit  lak  grown  up  fo'ks,  HI  Miss.  Yer 
jest  de  HI  gal  dat  went  'way  frum  heah  long  time 
ergo." 

"  I'm  just  the  same  little  girl,  Zebby,"  Natalia 
smiled  back  at  him,  putting  her  foot  into  his  broad 
palm,  "  until  you  help  me  to  mount  —  and  then,"  as 
she  settled  herself  in  the  saddle,  "  you'll  find  I've 
gained  a  pound  or  two." 

The  afternoon  had  advanced  until  the  rays  of  the 
sun  were  slanting  through  the  trees,  and  as  they  rode 
along  the  old  road,  Natalia  gave  the  horse  the  reins. 


204        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

while  she  drank  in  the  beauty  of  the  woods  and  open 
fields,  and  looked  for  landmarks  that  brought  back 
with  them  incidents  and  stories.  Once,  she  stopped 
before  the  place  where  the  Puckett  house  formerly 
stood  —  now  only  a  crumbling  chimney  remaining, 
surrounded  by  a  grove  of  China  trees:  and  again, 
along  the  brow  of  a  hill,  where  there  was  another 
view  of  the  river  as  it  swept  into  a  broad  bend  and 
disappeared  in  the  fertile  delta.  Finally  the  town 
lay  before  them  in  its  setting  of  beautiful  trees. 

"  I  don't  know  where  he  lives,  Zebby,"  Natalia 
said,  drawing  in  the  reins,  and  looking  back  to  Zebe- 
diah.    "  You  see,  I  am  a  stranger,  after  all." 

"  Dar's  de  house,"  Zebediah  answered,  pointing 
towards  a  dwelling  which  stood  close  to  the  road, 
in  the  suburbs  of  the  town. 

"That  house!"  Natalia  exclaimed.  "I  passed  it 
this  morning,  and  Mammy  did  not  even  wave  to 
me. 

"  I  seen  her,  dough.  She  wuz  down  on  de  landin' 
an*  lookin'  at  yer.  I  knowed  she  be  fer  seem'  yer 
somehow." 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me,  Zebby?  " 

The  old  negro  again  went  silent. 

"  I  tell  yer,  lil  Miss,  —  Dicey  she  so  perculiar.  I 
dunno  ef  she  wants  me  ter  tell  yer  or  not;  den  agin 
I  never  knows  if  yer  wuz  feelin'  like  Ole  Miss  did 
or  no.     I  jest  keep  mah  mouf  shet  for  dem  reasons." 

"  Shame  on  you,  Zebby !  Do  you  think  that  I 
would  ever  forget  any  one  who  was  as  good  to  me 
as  you  and  Mammy  were?  Now,  hold  my  horse.  I 
want  to  go  in  by  myself." 

Natalia  paused  before  the  gate,  and  stood  a  mo- 


MAMMY    DICEY'S    STORY         205 

ment  irresolutely  before  entering.  The  thought  that 
she  might  be  doing  something  a  little  rash,  never  came 
to  her  until  that  moment;  then  in  her  great  desire 
to  see  her  old  nurse,  all  considerations  left  her,  and 
she  went  up  the  walk  and  rang  the  bell.  The  rever- 
beration echoed  down  the  hall  as  she  waited,  and  it 
was  not  until  she  had  rung  several  times  that  she 
heard  some  one  coming.  Then  the  door  opened,  and 
Dicey  stood  facing  her. 

Zebediah,  watching  intently  from  the  road,  saw 
Natalia  suddenly  enveloped  in  the  old  negro  woman's 
arms,  and  drawn  into  the  house  and  the  door  closed 
after  them. 

Dicey  had  not  uttered  a  sound  when  she  found 
Natalia  at  the  door;  only  her  arms  opened  and  she 
pressed  the  girl  to  her  bosom,  their  tears  mingling 
as  the  old  slave  covered  her  face  and  hands  with 
kisses. 

"  Honey-chile,  honey-chile,  honey-chile !  " 

Natalia's  head  rested  on  the  old  familiar  bosom, 
with  the  comforting  feeling  of  dependence  and  trust 
which  she  had  not  known  since  she  had  last  nestled 
there.  When  she  looked  up  again  she  found  herself 
sitting  on  the  stair  steps,  her  head  leaning  against 
Dicey's  knee  and  the  well  known  voice  ringing  in 
her  ears. 

"  Yer  hasn't  fergotten  me,  has  yer,  honey-chile  ? 
I  knowed  yer  hadn't." 

Natalia's  eyes  answered  for  her  eloquently. 

"  Your  hair  has  turned  white,  Mammy,"  she  said, 
when  she  had  dried  her  tears ;  "  and  you  are  so  — 
so  fat,  Mammy  —  and  Mammy,  you  don't  belong  to 
me  any  longer,"  the  last  with  a  look  of  reproach. 


206        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

"  She  didn'  want  me  no  longer  when  yer  went 
away,"  Dicey  answered,  her  dark  eyes  glistening  sud- 
denly with  an  expression  of  malignant  anger.  Na- 
talia saw  the  wrinkling  of  the  brows  that  she  had 
dreaded  when  a  child,  for  it  never  came  except  when 
Dicey's  deep  anger  was  kindled;  and  even  now  she 
felt  a  reflection  of  her  childish  dread  at  the  familiar 
signal. 

"  She  put  me  up  fer  sale  lak  as  ef  I  wuz  any  udder 
nigger!  She  put  me  up  in  de  slabe-market  fer  any- 
body —  fer  anybody  to  buy !  Dar  wuz'n  no  use  fer 
her  doin'  me  dat  way.  She  could  ha'  sold  me  at  home. 
But  she  wouldn'.  She  hated  me  —  she  wanted  ter 
make  me  out  cheap  —  dat  wuz  it.  She  didn'  want 
me  and  she  didn'  ker  who  it  wuz  got  me !  " 

Natalia  put  her  hand  gently  over  the  old  woman's 
lips. 

"  Sh-h !  Don't  say  that  about  her,  Mammy.  It 
could  not  have  been  that  bad." 

"  But  it  wuz,  I  tell  yer !  Now  I  kin  hate  her  'cause 
I  don'  berlong  ter  her  no  longer.  No  good'll  cum 
ter  her!" 

The  words  rang  out  in  the  deserted  hall  forebod- 
ingly. A  ray  of  sunlight  penetrated  the  coloured  fan 
light  above  the  door,  dwelling  for  a  moment  with  a 
strange  significance,  illumining  the  old  negro's  snow- 
white  hair,  her  heavily  lined  features,  her  reddish 
brown  skin  and  weird  eyes. 

"  I  did  not  know  all  this,  Mammy,"  Natalia  an- 
swered in  a  low  voice.  "  I  did  not  know.  If  I  had 
it  would  have  been  different." 

"  Cose  yer  didn'  know  —  yer  done  jes'  fergit  all 
'bout  Dicey  —  nebber  think  'bout  things  down  heah 


MAMMY    DICEY'S    STORY         207 

a  bit,  did  yer,  honey?  I  knowed  dat  wuz  hit  —  hit 
wuz  nateral  enough.  Yer  wuzn't  nuthin'  but  er  HI 
gal  when  yer  lef  me." 

"  But  you  never  sent  me  a  letter,  Mammy.  You 
never  got  any  one  to  answer  mine  for  you." 

Again  the  old  woman's  features  contracted. 

"  She  nebber  gib  me  no  letters  frum  yer.  I  nebber 
knowed  whar  yer  wuz." 

"  You  never  got  my  letters  ?  " 

Dicey  shook  her  head  violently.  Natalia  looked 
at  her  a  long  time  during  the  silence  that  followed, 
still  holding  her  hand  tight  in  her  own. 

"  And  to  think  that  Sargent  Everett  should  have 
bought  you,  Mammy,"  she  said  finally.  "  If  it  had 
to  be  —  I'm  glad  he  was  the  one." 

"  De  Lawd'll  sho'  bless  him  fer  hit,"  the  old  slave 
answered.  "  Ef  hit  hadn'  been  fer  him  I'd  'a'  kilt 
mase'f.    Hit  would  'a'  been  easy  enough." 

Natalia  pressed  the  long-coarsened  fingers  as  they 
clung  to  hers. 

"Tell  me  about  it,  Mammy;  tell  me  everything. 
Let's  make  up  for  those  long  years  of  separation. 
How  long  was  it  after  I  left  you,  that  it  happened  ?  " 

"  Jes'  'bout  six  months,  honey.  I'se  mos*  fergit 
now  —  hit  seem  so  long  ago;  and  I  wuz  feelin'  so 
down-in-de-mouf  and  glum  when  you  done  gone,  I 
didn't  take  no  notice  ob  de  time.  Hit  wuz  one  day 
in  de  summer  time  dat  Ole  Miss  cum  out  ter  mah 
room,  an'  say  she  want  ter  speak  ter  me.  I  knows 
hit  wuz  goin'  powerful  ha'd  wid  me  cause  I  could 
tell  by  de  looks  in  her  eyes.  She  say  she  wouldn'  hab 
no  mo'  use  fer  me  sence  yer  gone  away,  and  de  boys 
would  be  goin'  soon  —  and  dat  she  done  made  up 


208        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

her  min'  ter  sell  me.  ■  But  yer  cayn't,  Ole  Miss/ 
says  I,  '  yer  cyant  sell  me  'cause  I  doan  belong  ter 
yer  —  I  belongs  ter  lil  Miss.  Marse  Brandon  say 
so  fo'  he  died.'  Den  she  turn  red  an'  white,  all  in 
a  sudden,  and  says  dat  he  mout  'a'  say  dat,  but  he 
done  made  no  sich  statemen'  in  his  will,  and  dat  she 
wuz  goin'  ter  sell  me  neberdeless.  '  Yer  knows  he 
said  dat,'  says  I  to  her,  '  an'  ef  lil  Miss  wuz  heah  yer 
wouldn'  dar  do  hit.'  Den  she  get  powerful  mad  and 
tole  me  ter  git  mah  things  togedder  and  be  reddy  ter 
go  ter  de  Co't  house  de  nex'  mawnin'.  Den  I  jes' 
gib  way  an'  cry,  cause  I  neber  b'liebe  I'd  be  put  up 
wid  all  dem  udder  niggers  an'  sole  lak  dem.  But  she 
didn'  listen  ter  me  no  mo',  and  went  away.  .  .  . 
Zebby  drive  me  ter  town  de  nex'  mawnin'  an'  Ole 
Miss  han'  me  ober  ter  de  trader-man,  and  didn'  say 
no  wo'd  ter  me  when  she  leabe.  Dar  wuz  a  big  crowd 
ob  people  dar  ter  see  de  slabes  —  two  hundred  ter  be 
sole  dat  day  and  a  lot  ob  plantation  fo'ks  done  cum 
ter  town  ter  buy." 

Suddenly  Dicey  stopped,  and  stared  before  her 
silently,  her  hands  clasping  Natalia's  until  she  winced 
from  the  pain. 

"  Den  mah  time  cum,"  she  resumed,  her  voice  low- 
ered, and  long  pauses  between  the  sentences.  "  De 
trader-man  read  out  a  whole  lot  ob  things  she  done 
writ  'bout  me,  sayin'  I  wuz  er  fust  class  cook  an'  could 
sew  and  a  whole  lot  ob  things  I  could  do  —  I  done 
seen  'em  sell  slabes  befo'  dis,  but  I  nebber  'spected  ter 
be  one  ob  dem  dat  wuz  sole  —  nebber !  Nebber !  I 
wouldn'  look  up  when  dey  read  all  'bout  me,  'til  I 
heerd  somebody  say  five  hundred  dollars  fer  me. 
Seem  lak  ter  me  I  knowed  de  voice  —  hit  wuz  Jedge 


MAMMY    DICEY'S    STORY         209 

Houston.  Den  anudder  one  bid  seben  hundred  dol- 
lars an'  anudder  one  say  er  thousan'.  .  .  .  Sumthin' 
tell  me  ter  look  up  when  dey  call  out  er  thousan', 
an'  I  see  Marse  Everett  a-standin'  under  er  tree  'cross 
de  street,  an'  I  look  at  him  so  ha'd  dat  he  finerlly  see 
me  and  start  ter  runnin'  whar'I  wuz.  '  Dicey,  what 
do  dis  mean  ?  '  says  he  ter  me.  '  Yer  cyant  be  sole. 
Yer  belongs  ter  Miss  Natalia.'  '  I  knows  I  does,' 
says  I,  and  begin  ter  cry  out  loud.  I  couldn'  he'p  it 
when  he  done  look  at  me  so  kin'  and  gentle-lak.  .  .  . 
Den  I  heerd  him  tell  de  trader-man  dar  wuz  some 
mistake,  but  de  man  said  Missus  Brandon  owned  me 
and  wuz  sellin'  me.  I  cried  all  de  mo'  when  I  seen 
him  turn  away  hopeless  lak,  'cause  I  think  he  wuz 
goin'  away  an'  leabe  me  ter  dem  people.  Den  de 
trader-man  begin  callin'  out  louder  and  louder  —  '  One 
thousan'  dollars  —  one  thousan'  dollars  '  tell  I  feel  like 
hollerin'  myself,  fer  I  wuz  nigh  crazy,  an'  den  when 
he  wuz  'bout  ter  turn  me  ober  ter  er  stranger  man 
Marse  Everett  come  up  an'  says  sumthin'  ter  him  and 
he  yell  out  '  Twelve  hundred.'  Den  de  udder  man  say 
'  Thirteen  hundred ! '  Den  Marse  Everett  fourteen 
hundred,  den  fourteen  hundred  fifty  an'  den  dar  wuz 
er  long  silence.  .  .  .  Den  I  heerd  Marse  Everett  say 
in  er  easy  low  voice  —  *  Fifteen  hundred  '  jes'  easy 
and  quiet,  lak  he  kin,  and  den,  Bless  de  Lawd !  I  seen 
de  udder  man  go  away.  .  .  .  De  trader-man  and 
Marse  Everett  talk  er  long  time  after  dat  and  den 
Marse  Everett  cum  ter  me  and  say,  '  Cum  with  me, 
Dicey,  everything's  all  right  now.  Hit's  done  took 
de  las'  cent  I  had  ter  buy  yer,  Dicey,  but  she  lubbed 
yer,  and  I'm  goin'  ter  keep  yer  fer  her  tell  she  cum 
back.'     Den  I  jes'  went  down  on  mah  knees  and  kiss 


210        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

his  hands  and  say,  '  Yer  won't  hab  no  regrets,  Marse 
Sargent,  I'll  serbe  yer  tell  I  die,  and  she'll  make  it 
up  ter  yer  —  one  ob  dese  days.'  " 

The  hall  was  filling  with  shadows.  The  sunshine 
through  the  fan  light  had  died  away,  yet  the  two  did 
not  move. 

"  And  then,  Mammy,"  Natalia  whispered. 

"  Den  he  tuk  me  ter  Jedge  Houston's  house  and 
lef  me  dar  wid  dem  an'  I  done  stay  dar  two  years 
tell  he  begin  ter  look  up  in  de  worl'.  Yer  know  him 
and  de  Jedge  done  win  er  suit  for  er  heap  ob  prop- 
erty an'  dat's  whar  he  fust  got  his  money.  After 
dat  he  built  dis  house  and  he  been  libin'  heah  eber 
sence.  I  keeps  de  house  fer  him  and  does  de  cookin' 
—  an'  all  de  time  we's  both  been  bidin'  our  time  an' 
waitin'  fer  yer  ter  cum  back." 

"  Waiting  for  me ! "  Natalia  exclaimed,  drawing 
away  quickly. 

Dicey  bowed  her  head  in  answer. 

"  He  done  tole  me  once  dat  when  yer  tole  him 
good-bye  dat  night,  yer  tole  him  he  mus'n'  lub  no 
oder  woman  tell  yer  cum  back  —  all  grown  up.  So 
yer  sees,  he's  been  keepin'  his  wo'd  all  de  time,  an' 
once,  he  showed  me  de  picture  you  sent  him.  De  same 
lil  picture  de  artis'-man  tuk  so  long  ter  paint  ob  yer, 
fo'  yer  pa  died.  An'  when  I  seen  hit,  I  jes'  cry  and 
cry  and  cry,  cause  hit  set  me  a  thinkin'  'bout  ole  times 
when  yer  ma  and  me  wuz  lil  gals  togedder  —  cause 
de  picture's  jes'  lak  her." 

u  But,  Mammy,  he  doesn't  still  think  I  meant  what 
I  said  then,  does  he?  I  was  only  a  child  when  I  said 
that.     Surely  he  has  forgotten  by  this  time." 

"  Fergit !     Lawd  bless  yer,  honey,  he  don'  fergit 


MAMMY    DICEY'S    STORY         211 

nuthin'  'bout  yer.  He  used  ter  talk  ebery  day  'bout 
yer  tell  lately  —  " 

Natalia  waited  silently  for  the  old  woman  to  con- 
tinue, her  hands  clasping  and  unclasping  in  her  lap. 

"  Tell  lately  when  we  heerd  yer  wuz  a-comin'  home 
ter  git  married.  Sence  den  he  hain't  sed  nothin'  much. 
I  tole  him  hit  wuzn't  so,  dat  yer  sho'  wouldn'  marry 
nobody  but  him." 

Natalia  winced  under  the  last  words;  then  broke 
abruptly  into  a  laugh. 

"  But  I  am  going  to  be  married,  Mammy.  I'm 
going  to  be  married  next  week,  and  then  I'm  going 
away  again  for  good,  and  you  are  going  with  me. 
I'm  going  to  buy  you  back  from  Mr.  Everett,  and 
take  you  with  me." 

Dicey  looked  at  her  hard,  moving  her  head  from 
side  to  side. 

"  No,  honey-chile,"  she  said  slowly.  "  I  cyant 
leabe  him  now  —  even  fer  yer." 

"  Yes,  you  can,  Mammy,  dear,"  and  Natalia  leaned 
her  head  on  the  old  woman's  bosom.  "  That  is  one 
of  the  principal  things  I  came  back  for  —  to  get  you. 
I  want  to  be  a  little  girl  again  and  get  you  to  tell  me 
stories  about  mamma,  and  go  to  sleep  at  night  hold- 
ing your  hand  —  just  like  I  used  to  do,  Mammy. 
Oh,  if  we  could  only  stay  little  always,"  she  sighed 
wistfully.  "  If  the  world  would  only  stop  moving 
and  let  us  stay  just  the  same  all  the  time  —  we  could 
be  so  —  so  happy.  But  here  I  am  —  a  woman  now, 
and  you,  Mammy,  you  are  an  old  woman,  with  your 
white  hair  and  your  wrinkles  —  but  I  love  you,  all 
the  same  —  more  than  any  one  in  the  world  ex- 
cept —  " 


212        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

'"Ceptwho?" 

"  Except  my  sweetheart." 

Dicey's  eyes  flashed. 

"  Dat  curly-headed,  pretty  man  in  de  green  coat, 
dat  was  settin'  in  frunt  ob  yer  in  de  ca'iage  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  was  he.  But  '  pretty  '  is  not  the  word 
that  describes  him,  Mammy.  '  Handsome  '  suits  him 
better." 

For  a  second  Dicey  deigned  no  answer. 

"  Wait  tell  yer  sees  Marse  Sargent  —  den  yer'll 
see  whut  er  han'some  gemman  is,  sho'  'nough." 

"  You  are  entirely  too  faithful  to  him,  Mammy 
Dicey,"  Natalia  laughed.  "  He  has  stolen  your  love 
from  me." 

"  An'  wait  tell  yer  hears  him  speak  in  public.  De 
people  goes  wild  ober  him.  Las'  week  dey  fired  off 
cannons  when  he  cum  home  frum  Jackson,  and  dat 
night  dey  built  bon-fires  all  ober  de  town  ter  do  him 
honour,  an'  when  he  begin  ter  speak  in  de  Co't-house 
squar'  and  eberybody  went  ter  heah  him,  yer  could 
er  heerd  er  pin  drap,  eberything  wuz  so  quiet.  An' 
when  de  words  cum  dey  soun'  so  beautiful  an'  sweet 
dey  set  me  ter  stedyin'  'bout  mos'  ebery  thing  in 
jineral." 

"  I  heard  him  speak  once,  don't  you  remember  ?  " 
Natalia's  eyes  narrowed  as  if  she  were  again  review- 
ing that  time.  *  It  was  wonderful,  too.  I  can  re- 
member it  now  just  as  if  it  were  yesterday." 

"  Dat  wuzn't  nothin'.  He  done  been  all  ober  de 
State  now  and  he's  cellibrated  ebery  whar  he  goes. 
Honey-chile,  yer  jes'  wait  tell  yer  heah  him  agin." 

M  It's  no  use,  Mammy."  Natalia  sighed  leniently. 
"  You  see  I'm  interested  in  only  one  man  now,  and 


MAMMY    DICEY'S    STORY         213 

as  I'm  going  to  be  married  next  week,  I  don't  believe 
it's  proper  for  me  to  listen  to  the  praises  of  another 
as  you  are  singing  them." 

Rising,  with  her  arm  still  about  Dicey,  she  walked 
slowly  to  the  door. 

"  You  see  how  dark  it  is  getting.  You  have  almost 
made  me  forget  that  Morgan  will  be  waiting  for 
me  and  wondering  where  I  am.  Tell  him,  though, 
Mammy  —  your  Marse  Sargent  —  that  he  must  come 
out  to  see  me  to-morrow,  and  be  sure  to  make  him 
promise  to  let  me  have  you.  I  am  not  going  away 
without  you." 

"  He's  away  on  er  speakin'  trip  now.  He  won't  be 
back  fer  er  week." 

"  So  he  will  not  be  here  for  my  wedding!  "  Na- 
talia frowned  with  evident  disappointment.  "  Then 
I  must  write  him  about  you  at  once." 

Dicey  stared  at  Natalia  a  moment,  and  then  draw- 
ing her  face  down  until  it  rested  on  her  bosom,  she 
kissed  her  as  she  used  to  do,  on  the  top  of  her  head, 
in  the  wide  part. 

"  Listen,  honey-chile,"  she  whispered,  halting  at 
the  door,  with  the  old  strange  look  of  visions  in  her 
eyes.  "  Does  yer  'member  de  night  yer  axed  Mammy 
to  fin'  picters  in  de  fire  fer  yer  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  remember,  Mammy,"  Natalia  an- 
swered from  the  steps.  "  You  always  were  finding 
them  for  me.     Do  you  do  it  still  ?  " 

"  I'se  speakin'  'bout  one  time  in  perticula',"  Dicey 
answered  gravely. 

Natalia  halted,  drawing  her  brows  together 
thoughtfully. 

"  No,  I  don't  remember  particularly,  Mammy,"  she 


214        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

cried  gaily,  blowing  a  kiss  back  to  the  old  woman. 
"  Come  out  to-morrow  and  tell  me  about  it.  Good- 
bye!" 

Dicey  turned  back  into  the  hall  and  locked  the  door 
after  her.  It  was  almost  dark  now,  and  as  she  stood 
alone  among  the  grey  shadows  of  the  twilight  the  old 
look  of  visions  burned  wildly  in  her  eyes. 

Suddenly  she  went  to  the  back  door  and  out  into 
the  yard.  Stopping  at  last  before  the  wood  house, 
she  called  to  a  negro  man  inside. 

"  Jonas !  Jonas !    Does  yer  know  whar  Marser  is  ?  " 

"  He  mighty  nigh  two  days'  good  ridin'  way  from 
heah.     Whut  yer  wants  ter  know  fer?  " 

"  Nebber  yer  min',  nigger.  Yer  go  ter  Jedge  Hous- 
ton's ter-night  an'  fin'  out  fer  certin  whar  Marse  Sar- 
gent am  ter  be  found.  We'se  goin'  ter  be  needin'  him 
in  er  mighty  few  days." 


CHAPTER   IV 

SLAVES    FOR   STAKES 

The  Mansion  House  was  still  the  gathering  place 
of  all  the  prominent  citizens,  as  it  had  been  when  Sar- 
gent Everett  had  landed  there;  only  now  the  little 
tavern  had  grown  into  a  famous  hostelry.  Its  fagade 
had  been  dignified  with  the  addition  of  a  third  story; 
its  front  pavement  had  been  widened  into  a  spacious 
terrace,  where  tables  and  chairs  were  placed  invitingly 
beneath  the  trees;  and  along  its  front  was  an  exten- 
sive row  of  large  rocking  chairs,  gay  and  hospitable 
with  bright  red  paint,  and  always  occupied  at  the  hours 
the  coaches  were  expected.  But  the  real  glory  of  the 
tavern  was  its  bar  and  so-called  club  room,  decorated 
with  trophies  brought  there  by  its  wealthy  patrons  — 
Indian  relics,  muskets  from  some  pioneer  campaign, 
skins  and  furs  belonging  to  celebrated  hunters,  and 
most  prominent  of  all,  a  huge  pair  of  antlers,  silver 
tipped  and  engraved  with  the  name  of  Captain  Ment- 
drop,  which  he  had  won  in  a  boat  race  from  St.  Louis 
to  New  Orleans. 

Almost  any  hour  of  the  day  and  late  into  the  night, 
wealthy  planters  of  the  surrounding  country  and  prom- 
inent men  of  the  town  were  to  be  found  there,  discuss- 
ing politics,  consummating  large  land  deals,  gambling, 
with  bales  of  cotton,  slaves,  and  some  times  whole 

215 


216        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

plantations  as  stakes.  "  We  call  it  '  flush  '  times," 
Jervais  said,  as  he  drove  into  the  town  with  Morgan 
and  Joel  Talbot.  "  With  State  banks  issuing  bills  by 
the  sheet,  and  no  showing  of  credit  asked  except  for 
a  fellow  to  prove  that  he  needs  money,  there  is  no 
better  name  for  it.  Why,  man,  there  don't  seem  to 
be  anybody  about  here  that  isn't  flush;  property  has 
gone  beyond  reach,  and  the  whole  Southwest  is  wide 
open.  Only  last  month  I  was  talking  to  a  fellow  that 
used  to  be  my  overseer.  He  had  just  been  to  New 
York,  and  with  a  letter  avouching  his  citizenship,  and 
a  clean  shirt,  he  had  gotten  all  the  money  he  wanted. 
No  wonder  everybody's  flocking  this  way." 

"  It  can't  last.  It's  fictitious.  Wait  until  the  Specie 
Circular  begins  to  take  effect,"  Morgan  replied. 

"  Ah,  there  you  have  it.  But  while  all  this  fun  is 
going  on,  I  say  a  fellow's  a  fool  not  to  enjoy  it  and 
make  all  he  can  out  of  it.  I,  for  one,"  and  Jervais 
blew  a  cloud  of  cigar  smoke  luxuriously  about  him, 
"  I,  for  one,  am  not  asleep.  It's  the  time  in  a  century 
for  a  lawyer!  " 

"  So  it  seems.  See  how  my  old  friend  is  rising  on 
the  wave,"  Talbot  commented. 

"Your  old  friend?" 

"  Yes  —  Sargent  Everett.  You  know  he  came 
down  here  through  me." 

Jervais  leaned  back  in  his  seat  with  assumed  indif- 
ference. "  Why  d'ye  know,  that  surprises  me,"  he 
said,  viewing  Talbot  with  the  lazy  hauteur  of  his 
younger  days.  "  What  can  you  possibly  find  to  inter- 
est you  in  a  fellow  like  Everett  ?  " 

Morgan  did  not  answer  at  once.  Sitting  beside 
Jervais,  he  had  been  observing  him  closely  during  the 


SLAVES    FOR    STAKES  217 

drive.  He  had  already  felt  a  growing  dislike  for  the 
man,  seeing  beneath  the  suave  manners  a  certain  cold 
insolence ;  but  thinking  that  this  was  perhaps  a  reflec- 
tion of  Natalia's  attitude  towards  him,  Morgan  had 
attempted  to  overcome  it.  Now,  with  the  sneering 
words  about  his  old  friend,  he  felt  this  dislike  deepen- 
ing. 

"  He  is  going  to  Congress,  I  hear,"  Joel  put  in  dur- 
ing the  moment  of  silence. 

"  That's  not  certain,  by  a  long  shot.  Wait  until  you 
see  the  ballot,  and  then,  from  what  I  know,  Sargent 
Everett  will  realize  that  he  never  did  stand  a  show. 
But  here's  the  tavern."  Jervais  spoke  with  evident 
relief.  "  Now,  I'll  have  a  chance  to  introduce  you  to 
some  of  my  friends.  This  fellow  coming  toward  us," 
he  continued,  as  they  stepped  from  the  carriage,  "  is 
a  good  example  of  what  the  flush  times  are  doing.  A 
few  years  ago  he  was  a  poor,  down-in-the-mouth  land 
agent ;  now  kindly  observe  him  —  he  has  ambitions 
towards  the  Governor's  mansion  if  you  please !  Come 
over,  Mr.  Suggs,  and  shake  hands  with  Mr.  Talbot 
and  his  brother — from  Boston." 

Mr.  Suggs  advanced  with  his  usual  appreciation  of 
an  important  occasion.  A  chimney  pot  hat  and  a  tight 
frock  coat,  closely  buttoned  across  his  narrow  chest, 
accentuated  his  gaunt  figure,  and  increased  the  air  of 
prosperity  which  his  recent  admission  to  the  bar 
demanded. 

"  Mighty  glad  to  meet  you,  gentlemen.  From  Bos- 
ton —  did  I  understand  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  Suggs,  the  original  members  of  the 
Tea  Party,"  Jervais  put  in  with  a  wink  towards  Mor- 
gan.    "  Mr.  Suggs  wants  to  give  you  the  impression 


218        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

that  he  never  heard  of  you  before,  Talbot.  And  I'll 
bet  you  the  juleps  he  knows  more  about  you  now  than 
you  do  about  yourself.  But  come,  let's  sit  down. 
What's  your  last  case,  Suggs  ?  " 

In  a  moment  Jervais  had  drawn  a  crowd  about 
them,  every  one  coming  up  to  extend  a  cordial  wel- 
come to  the  Northerners.  There  was  Colonel  An- 
drews, a  gentleman  of  flowing  beard  and  manners, 
who  told  of  his  exploits  in  the  Battle  of  New  Orleans, 
with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  the  original  moment ;  there 
was  another  just  back  from  the  Florida  campaign ; 
another  on  his  way  to  New  Orleans  to  purchase  half 
a  hundred  slaves  for  his  plantations  —  and  many  men 
of  the  town,  young  and  old,  each  evidently  glad  of 
an  opportunity  to  meet  and  converse  with  men  from 
the  far  distant  North. 

Jervais  was  at  his  best  as  host  of  the  occasion,  doing 
the  honours  with  the  elegance  of  manner  which  had 
made  him  so  successful  with  a  certain  class.  Reports 
of  Talbot's  wealth  and  position  had  preceded  him,  and 
nothing  was  more  to  Jervais'  pleasure  than  to  intro- 
duce such  a  personage  to  the  town. 

"  It's  certainly  a  great  pleasure  to  meet  you  gentle- 
men," Mr.  Suggs  was  saying  to  Joel,  having  placed 
his  chair  confidentially  near  him.  "  I  was  only  wish- 
ing to-day  that  I  could  have  had  some  one  from  a 
distance  to  hear  me  argue  a  case.  Now,  you  would 
have  appreciated  it,  I  know.  A  long  toddy,"  to  the 
waiter.  "  I  was  defending  a  boy  who  had  stolen  his 
neighbours  calf.  It  was  a  mighty  ticklish  case,  too, 
I'd  let  you  know  —  because  all  the  neighbourhood  was 
against  the  poor  devil."  Suggs  stopped  a  moment 
impressively. 


SLAVES    FOR    STAKES  219 

"  Of  course  you  cleared  him,"  some  one  called  out, 
who  had  been  listening. 

"  But  tell  me  how,"  Joel  laughed.  "  It  seems  an 
impossible  feat." 

"  Well,  sir,  you  would  think  so,"  Mr.  Suggs  con- 
tinued seriously,  "  though  when  I  looked  into  the  mat- 
ter, I  found  the  poor  fellow  was  starving,  and  you 
know  yourself,  Mr.  Talbot,  a  man  that's  starving  ain't 
responsible  for  his  acts  —  ain't  I  right?  " 

"  And  if  he's  dying  of  thirst,  Suggs  —  what  then?  " 
some  one  broke  in. 

"  Of  course  the  jury  saw  it  that  way.  I  made  it 
so  plain  to  them  they  had  to.  Now,  I've  a  the- 
ory—" 

"  Joel,  I  want  you  to  meet  Mr.  Morancy.  He's  our 
national  hero  in  this  part  of  the  world.  D'you  ever 
hear  of  him  in  Boston  —  the  fellow  who  won  fifty 
thousand  dollars  in  one  poker  game !  " 

Joel  found  himself  shaking  hands  with  a  florid  faced 
man  with  iron  grey  hair.  Beneath  the  shade  of  a  broad 
brimmed  felt  hat,  the  calm  features  gave  no  clue  to 
such  an  extravagant  reputation. 

"  But  it  occurred  on  a  Mississippi  River  steamboat, 
Mr.  Talbot."  Mr.  Morancy  laughed,  as  he  shook 
hands. 

"  He  wants  to  give  you  the  impression  that  it  was 
an  accident,"  Colonel  Andrews  put  in,  "  but  it  was  as 
premeditated  as  the  fellow  who  had  waited  for  a  Royal 
Flush." 

"  Tell  us,  Colonel!  Sh'h!  The  Colonel's  on  for  a 
story !  "  came  from  the  crowd. 

The  old  fellow  threw  back  his  shoulders  and  swelled 
portentously. 


220        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  in  his  rolling,  grandiloquent 
style,  "  I  never  tell  that  story  except  when  there  is 
a  chance  for  me  to  hold  what  that  fellow  had  waited 
for." 

It  was  a  signal  for  the  crowd  to  move  to  the  club 
room  just  back  of  the  bar.  There,  three  cloth-covered 
tables  were  placed  in  the  centre  of  the  room.  About 
one,  several  men  were  already  hard  at  it,  the  sound 
of  the  chips,  the  boisterous  laughter  and  oaths  telling 
that  the  game  was  at  its  height. 

Jervais  was  the  first  to  sit  down,  his  eyes  surveying 
the  crowd  with  the  glitter  of  a  devotee  of  the  game. 
"  Sit  down,  Talbot,"  he  cried  to  Morgan.  "  I  want 
you  to  have  a  little  taste  of  how  we  play  poker  down 
here.  Come  on,  Colonel  Andrews,  and  you,  Morancy, 
although  I  don't  want  you  to  look  forward  to  fifty 
thousand  on  this  game.  We'll  go  it  easy  in  consider- 
ation for  the  strangers,"  he  ended,  with  a  glance 
towards  Morgan  that  brought  a  rush  of  blood  to  his 
face. 

"  I  beg  you  gentlemen  will  not  let  my  presence 
dampen  your  game  in  the  least,"  Morgan  said  quietly, 
taking  his  seat  next  Colonel  Andrews.  "  I  shall  be 
delighted  to  play  your  game  as  you  play  it,  and  I  shall 
not  object  even  to  a  table  stake,  if  that  is  your  custom." 
He  looked  at  Jervais  with  this  last  thrust,  and  smiled 
broadly. 

"  We  usually  start,"  Colonel  Andrews  hastened  to 
explain,  clearing  his  throat  and  glancing  about  the 
crowd,  "  on  a  modest  limit,  and  sometimes  end  up  on 
table  stakes.  But  we  might  begin  there  to-day,  if  you 
gentlemen  are  agreeable.  I  think  it  will  be  swift 
enough  for  any  of  you  if  we  make  it  all  jacks  with 


SLAVES    FOR    STAKES  221 

a  dollar  ante.  Shall  we  each  buy  a  thousand  for 
Stakes?  .  .  .  Very  well,  then." 

The  Colonel,  acting  as  banker,  dealt  out  to  each 
player  a  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  chips,  and  each 
gave  him  his  I.  O.  U.  for  the  amount.  "  Let's  see 
who  deals,"  he  continued,  dealing  a  card  to  each  player. 
"  Ah !  a  king :  I  deal.  Well,"  the  deck  of  cards  fall- 
ing together  between  his  long  fingers,  "  well,  gentle- 
men, everybody  come  in  and  look  pleasant !  "  Another 
moment  and  each  chipped  in  his  ante,  and  the  cards 
began  flying  around. 

"  Now  I  can  continue  my  story,"  Colonel  Andrews 
went  on,  draining  a  tall  tumbler  of  champagne,  and 
looking  at  Morgan  with  a  glance  of  approbation.  He 
was  keen  enough  to  have  caught  the  stranger's  refuta- 
tion of  Jervais'  remark,  and  liked  his  bold  stroke. 

1  Yes  —  I'm  anxious  to  hear  it.  You  said  it  was 
a  Royal  Flush  ?  " 

"That  is  what  it  is  about.     Ever  hold  one?" 

"  No,  I've  never  been  so  lucky  as  that,"  Morgan 
answered,  picking  up  his  cards.  "  It's  worth  living 
for,  though,  I  expect." 

"  Well  —  I  reckon.  Yes,  sir,  he  believed  it  would 
come  to  him  some  day,  and  .  .  ."  The  Colonel  be- 
came silent  suddenly,  as  he  looked  at  his  cards.  All 
hands  passed,  and  the  deal  went  to  Jervais. 

"  Yes,  as  I  was  saying,  he  knew  it  would  come  to 
him  one  of  these  days.  He  got  it  at  last,  too,  and 
as  luck  would  have  it,  the  game  was  the  biggest  he 
had  ever  got  mixed  up  in."  The  Colonel  paused  again 
when  the  cards  had  been  dealt,  and  when  Morancy 
opened  with  but  Jervais  staying,  he  continued :  "  And, 
bless  your  soul,  when  he  actually  did  see  that  Royal 


222        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

family  staring  up  at  him,  he  had  to  tie  his  handker- 
chief around  his  neck  to  keep  from  yelling." 

Jervais  opened  the  next  pot  for  twenty-five  dollars, 
saying  to  the  Colonel,  "  Go  on,  I'm  listening.  You 
said  the  fellow  got  at  last  what  he  was  looking  for." 

But  the  Colonel  was  too  much  occupied  then  to 
notice.  In  the  pause  Morgan  glanced  about  the  room. 
The  third  table  had  been  taken  now,  and  the  room 
was  gradually  filling  with  a  crowd  of  onlookers.  In 
those  days  it  was  not  a  crime  to  stand  behind  a  man 
and  watch  his  game,  for  such  was  the  common  feeling 
of  good-fellowship,  that  each  man  trusted  the  one 
behind  him  and  accepted  him  as  a  gentleman  of  honour. 
Besides,  the  Mansion  House  was  only  open  to  gentle- 
men. 

The  sound  of  clinking  chips,  the  dense  clouds  of 
smoke,  and  the  endless  hubbub  of  voices  in  many  keys, 
were  steadily  making  the  room  stifling.  Waiters 
were  rushing  around  to  supply  every  want  at  the  same 
time. 

With  the  rapid  succession  of  pots  and  the  unusually 
brisk  plays,  the  Colonel  had  evidently  forgot  to  pro- 
ceed with  his  story  —  or  at  least  had  deferred  con- 
cluding until  the  present  absorbing  interest  of  the  game 
had  subsided.  Jervais  was  losing  steadily ;  his  hands 
were  just  large  enough  to  keep  him  in  nearly  every 
play  —  and  almost  invariably  small  enough  to  lose  the 
pots.  In  the  meantime  he  had  bought  another  thou- 
sand chips,  and  that  now  was  nearly  gone.  Morgan's 
luck  was  unprecedented;  it  seemed  he  could  draw  to 
anything  and  win. 

The  last  pot  —  opened  by  Jervais  —  had  gone  to 
Morgan,  and  the  deal  was  now  his.     Jervais  had  or- 


SLAVES    FOR    STAKES  223 

dered  a  bowl  of  punch  for  the  crowd,  and  was  just 
testing  the  first  glass.  Measuring  the  pile  of  chips 
before  Morgan,  he  suddenly  asked  the  Colonel  for 
four  thousand  more,  with  the  apparent  purpose  of 
matching  Morgan's  money  in  anticipation  of  an  op- 
portunity for  favourable  encounter. 

"  Here's  to  bridegroom's  luck,"  he  called  to  Mor- 
gan.    Talbot  smiled  and  drained  his  glass. 

"  As  I  was  saying,"  the  Colonel  began  again,  "  he 
was  in  a  big  game  and  they'd  gotten  the  pot  up  to 
ten  thousand  dollars  —  yes,  sir,  —  there  was  ten  thou- 
sand in  the  pot;  and  that  fellow  bet  ten  thou- 
sand, naturally.  The  crowd  wouldn't  stand  for  it, 
though :  wanted  to  give  him  only  a  show  down ;  they 
said  the  fellow  didn't  have  ten  thousand  dollars  to 
his  name.  Did  he  ?  Well,  to  tell  the  truth  —  no,  he 
didn't." 

The  cards  had  been  dealt  again,  and  the  table  went 
silent.  Morancy  opened,  the  Colonel  raised,  Jervais 
doubled,  and  Morgan  stayed.  Morancy,  too,  raised, 
and  the  Colonel,  Jervais,  and  Morgan  called.  Each 
drew  one  card. 

After  the  draw  the  betting  became  lively  once 
more,  —  confined,  though,  to  Jervais  and  Talbot.  Mo- 
rancy and  the  Colonel  having  but  relatively  small 
amounts  before  them,  came  in  for  a  show  down. 
Finally  Morgan  u  tapped  "  Jervais,  the  former  laying 
down  four  Aces,  the  latter  four  Queens.  Both  had 
drawn  the  fourth  card. 

"  There's  something  in  bridegroom's  luck,  after  all," 
commented  Morancy,  smiling  good-humouredly  at 
Jervais,  who  had  not  won  a  hand,  and  was  beginning 
to  show  it. 


224         THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

"  Pretty  good  for  you,"  commented  the  Colonel,  as 
the  deal  flew  again  from  his  fingers.  "  Take  my  ad- 
vice, and  don't  keep  your  host  in  this  game  much 
longer,"  he  added  in  an  aside  to  Morgan.  "  He's 
always  hard  up,  the  darned  fool,  and  never  was  known 
to  have  sense  enough  to  quit.  You  see,  he's  getting 
pretty  far  gone,  already."  Then  aloud,  "  but  you 
couldn't  bluff  that  fellow,  even  if  he  didn't  have  the 
ten  thousand.  He  wrote  out  a  check  on  the  best  bank 
in  the  town  and  threw  it  on  the  table.  What  did  the 
others  do?  Why,  they  gave  him  the  laugh.  They 
didn't  want  checks  —  they  wanted  hard  cash !  " 

"  Five  cards,"  called  Jervais  irritably. 

Morancy's  caught  the  Colonel's  eye  and  his  own 
closed  eloquently.     "  Give  me  two,"  he  said. 

Morgan  took  two.  As  the  hands  went  down,  Mor- 
gan got  the  pile  again. 

"  Well  —  I  suppose  your  man  was  bluffing  with  his 
ten  thousand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  was  all  bluff.    But  it  went  through." 

"How?" 

"  When  they  wouldn't  take  his  check,  he  called  for 
paper  and  ink,  and  wrote  to  the  President  of  the  bank. 
1  I've  got  what  I've  been  looking  for  all  my  life.  Am 
I  good  for  ten  thousand  dollars  ?  '  " 

"  For  God's  sake  shut  up,  Colonel,"  cried  Jervais. 
"  We're  playing  poker." 

The  next  deal  was  Morgan's.  Candles  were  being 
brought  in  as  the  room  gradually  darkened,  and  with' 
the  soft  light  the  surroundings  took  on  a  new  aspect. 
The  newcomers  were  growing  numerous  with  the  ap- 
proaching evening,,  until  a  double  circle  of  men  was 
around  the  tables.     A  general  interest  was  being  dis- 


SLAVES    FOR    STAKES  225 

played  in  the  Northerner's  luck,  accounts  of  which  had 
reached  to  the  outside  of  the  tavern. 

Morgan  stopped  before  dealing  and  looked  at  his 
watch.  Then  he  looked  at  Jervais.  "  They  expect  us 
back  at  seven  o'clock,"  he  said.  "  Shall  we  stop 
now?  " 

"  No,"  Jervais  cried,  his  voice  shaking  slightly, 
his  face  flushing  from  the  effects  of  too  much  liquor. 
"  Your  luck's  too  good  for  me  to  quit." 

Morgan  looked  up  quickly,  then  glanced  at  the 
others.  "  Well,  one  more  hand  around  then  —  but 
the  last,"  he  said  deliberately.  "  We  are  expected  at 
home  at  seven,"  he  continued  in  explanation  to  the 
others.  "  Possibly  Mr.  Jervais  does  not  understand 
my  impatience." 

"  Nor  your  luck,"  suggested  the  Colonel. 

"  Go  on  —  go  on,"  Jervais  muttered.  "  If  you're 
in  a  hurry,  let's  get  through.  I'll  show  you  something 
this  time." 

"  Better  walk  around  your  chair,"  Morancy 
laughed. 

Jervais  wheeled  towards  him.  "  Is  it  your  money 
I'm  losing?" 

Jervais  now  replaced  his  depleted  pile  by  a  further 
purchase  of  chips,  and  announced  that,  as  it  was  the 
last  hand  around,  he  would  not  limit  his  stake  to  the 
money  in  front  of  him,  but  would,  so  far  as  he  was 
concerned,  allow  or  make  any  bet. 

The  cards  were  dealt  in  silence. 

"  Three  for  me,"  cried  Jervais,  his  hand  falling 
heavily  upon  the  table. 

The  Colonel  looked  around  the  table,  his  face  elab- 
orately expressionless. 


226        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

"  I  stand  pat,"  said  Morgan.  After  the  others  had 
drawn  he  bet  fifty  dollars. 

"  I  raise  you  two  hundred,"  added  Jervais,  who  had 
filled. 

"  That  let's  me  out,"  came  from  Morancy,  with  the 
resignation  of  an  old  fighter.  He  was  followed  by  the 
three  other  men. 

"  One  thousand  more,"  said  Morgan,  facing  Jervais 
squarely. 

"  Gentlemen,  you  will  have  to  excuse  me,"  and  the 
Colonel  laid  down  his  hand. 

"  Fifteen  hundred  more." 

"  Two  thousand  better,"  from  Morgan. 

"  Twenty-five  hundred  better  than  you." 

Morgan  studied  his  hand  intently  for  a  few  sec- 
onds. "  Well,  we'll  make  it  three  thousand  more. 
Colonel,  I'm  very  anxious  to  hear  the  end  of  that 
story." 

Jervais'  face  was  livid  now. 

"Four  thousand  —  d'you  hear?  I  say  four!  You 
can't  bluff  me!" 

Morgan  met  his  look  with  a  sudden  realization  that 
the  affair  had  gone  too  far,  although  a  glance  around 
the  room  told  him  that  he  could  not  afford  to  end  the 
game ;   that  must  be  done  by  Jervais. 

"  I  make  it  five  thousand."  Morgan's  voice  trem- 
bled a  little. 

"  By  God,  I'll  call  you !  "  Jervais  answered.  "  And 
pay  you  in  slaves  if  I  lose." 

Morgan  was  on  his  feet  in  a  moment.  "  I'm  not 
gambling  for  slaves,"  he  cried  angrily,  throwing  four 
deuces  on  the  table.  "  You  know,  Mr.  Jervais,  how 
I  feel  on  that  subject." 


SLAVES    FOR    STAKES  227 

Jervais  had  risen  also,  steadying  himself  against  the 
back  of  his  chair. 

"  Easy,  gentlemen,  easy,"  cried  the  Colonel,  leaning 
across  the  table  between  the  two  men.  "  Call  the  game 
off  for  this  evening.    You're  both  a  little  excited  now." 

"  Jervais  can  call  the  game  off  or  not  as  he  chooses," 
Morgan  said  sharply,  turning  away.  "  But  he  can't 
pay  me  in  slaves." 

Jervais  steadied  himself  with  an  effort.  "  Well,  I 
won't  then,  since  you're  so  particular.  You  and  I 
can  settle  this  affair  ourselves.  Let's  go  home  now  — 
only  —  you've  got  to  come  back  here  again  and  show 
these  gentlemen  how  long  that  luck  of  yours  can  keep 
up."  As  he  turned  sullenly  toward  the  door  Morancy 
and  several  others  quietly  surrounded  him,  without 
saying  a  word. 

"  Oh,  I'll  come  back,"  Morgan  smiled  easily  at  the 
prospect  of  getting  away  with  so  little  trouble.  "  I'm 
here  for  two  weeks,  gentlemen,"  and  bowing  to  the 
crowd,  he  left  the  club-room,  followed  by  Joel. 

"  It's  a  great  failing  of  his,"  the  Colonel  explained, 
as  he  walked  with  Morgan  to  the  carriage.  "  Getting 
worse  and  worse  all  the  time.  Sorry  it  happened  this 
evening,  but  you  forget  all  about  it  —  Lem  won't  re- 
member a  thing  by  morning." 

They  were  nearly  at  the  carriage  now,  where  Jervais 
had  been  safely  landed  on  the  back  seat. 

"  Oh  I  almost  forgot  to  finish  that  story,"  said  the 
Colonel,  his  hand  holding  Morgan's  in  a  tight  clasp. 
"  The  fellow  had  talked  so  much  about  that  hand  he 
was  living  for  that  the  banker  knew  what  he  meant. 
So  he  said  it  was  all  right,  and  on  the  strength  of 
that  the   crowd  accepted   the   fellow's   ten-thousand- 


228        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

dollar  bet,  and  every  one  dropped  out.  But  if  it  had 
come  to  a  show-down,  by  jingo,  there  wasn't  a  damn 
thing  in  his  hand  but  a  pair  of  deuces.  Good  night, 
my  boy,  —  see  you  to-morrow."  And  he  went  off 
laughing. 


CHAPTER   V 

CANDLELIGHT 

After  supper  that  evening,  when  they  were  leaving 
the  dining-room,  Natalia  slipped  her  arm  through 
Judge  Houston's,  and  drew  him  towards  the  big  salon 
across  the  hall. 

"  Let's  you  and  I  run  away  from  the  others  for 
a  while,"  she  whispered  as  they  entered  the  room.  "  I 
haven't  had  any  talk  at  all  with  you,  and  if  we  slip 
in  here  and  sit  over  on  that  old  davenport  in  the  cor- 
ner, they'll  never  find  us,  and  we  can  talk,  and  talk,  and 
talk  —  like  we  used  to.  There  is  so  much  that  I  want 
you  to  tell  me;    so  much  that  I  want  to  tell  you." 

She  led  him  across  the  highly  polished  floor,  the  old 
gentleman  playfully  assuming  that  he  might  slip. 

"Suppose  I  should  fall,  Natalia,"  he  complained; 
"  I  never  did  like  these  slippery  floors.  I  won't  let 
Maria  have  them  at  home." 

"  Lean  on  me,  Uncle  Felix,"  she  answered,  smiling. 
"  I  know  it  will  be  difficult  for  you  to  do,  though  — 
you  never  leaned  on  any  one  in  your  life,  did  you? 
Put  your  arm  through  mine  and  take  a  step  —  so. 
Any  one  would  think  we  were  dancing  a  minuet  or 
a  Virginia  reel!  But  you  will  dance  the  quadrille 
with  me  at  my  own  wedding,  won't  you,  Uncle  Felix? 
Now !  "  she  ended,  landing  him  safely  on  the  deep  sofa. 

"  The  time  is  coming,  Natalia,  when  I  must  lean  on 

229 


230         THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

some  one  all  the  time,"  the  old  gentleman  sighed.  "  It 
isn't  very  far  off,  either.  Do  you  know,  I  find  myself 
deferring  to  Maria  for  the  smallest  things,  and  when 
not  Maria  —  it  is  Sargent." 

"  Sargent  Everett,"  Natalia  repeated  after  him,  pil- 
ing some  cushions  on  the  horse-hair  upholstery  so  that 
the  old  gentleman  would  lean  back  comfortably.  Then 
she  pushed  a  small  stool  before  the  sofa,  and  sat  down 
upon  it,  resting  her  chin  in  her  hand  while  the  other 
one  lay  across  his  knee.  "  Sargent  Everett,"  she  said 
again  thoughtfully.  "  That  is  one  of  the  things  I  want 
you  to  tell  me,  Uncle  Felix  —  all  about  him." 

The  late  twilight  of  the  warm  June  day  still  glowed 
through  the  windows.  The  whispering  of  the  birds 
as  they  sought  shelter  for  the  night  in  the  magnolia 
grove  floated  in  to  them,  lending  a  potent  charm  to 
the  quiet  surroundings.  Judge  Houston  did  not  an- 
swer at  once,  and  in  the  long  silence  that  widened 
between  them,  he  felt  for  a  while  that  almost  any 
words  would  jar  the  contentment  of  the  moment. 
Occasionally  his  hand  moved  across  Natalia's  hair  — 
a  touch  so  gentle  and  loving  that  she  wondered  if  her 
father  would  have  meant  more  to  her  than  this  dear 
old  man. 

"  There  is  so  much  to  tell,"  he  began  at  last,  "  and 
I  would  gain  so  much  pleasure  in  the  telling  that  you 
would  fall  asleep  long  before  I  was  half  through. 
Indeed,  Natalia,  Sargent  is  making  these  last  days  of 
my  life  very  happy,  for  in  his  success  I  seem  to  get  a 
pleasure  so  deep  that  at  times  I  imagine  his  triumphs 
are  my  own." 

Natalia  moved  restlessly,  as  if  to  rise,  then  sank 
back  on  the  stool  again. 


CANDLELIGHT  231 

"  Why  is  it  that  every  one  I  meet  seems  to  worship 
him  ?  "  she  murmured,  half  complaining.  "  You  have 
always  loved  him  more  than  me  —  yes,  you  have,  dear 
Uncle  Felix,  and  now,  when  I  come  back  home,  I  find 
Dicey  is  his  slave  —  and  willingly,  too.  He  has  stolen 
the  love  of  you  both  from  me.  I  am  growing  very, 
very  jealous  of  him.  Do  you  know,  Uncle  Felix,  Dicey 
says  she  will  not  leave  him,  but  I  believe  she  will,  don't 
you?" 

"  I  did  not  know  you  had  seen  her.  Was  she  here 
to-day  ?" 

"  No.     I  went  to  her." 

"  At  Sargent's  house  —  to-day  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  where  I  was  all  the  afternoon.  He 
was  not  there.  Dicey  said  he  was  out  of  town  on 
some  political  tour.  Tell  me  about  him,  Uncle  Felix 
—  it  has  been  years  and  years  since  I  heard  from 
him  or  about  him.  Occasionally  I  have  seen  articles 
in  the  papers  about  his  speeches.  Are  they  so  won- 
derful?   Have  you  some  of  them  that  I  could  read?  " 

Judge  Houston's  eyes  glowed  with  the  enthusiasm 
that  was  always  in  them  when  he  spoke  of  Sargent, 
nor  did  Natalia  miss  the  sudden  quickening  of  inter- 
est and  kindling  of  energies  that  so  obviously  mani- 
fested his  devotion. 

"  His  speeches  are  remarkable  works  of  beauty  and 
construction,  but  they  are  nothing  in  comparison  with 
his  delivery.  It  always  saddens  me  when  I  think  of 
his  future  reputation  —  when  he  goes  down  in  his- 
tory —  as  he  surely  will  —  for  people  will  not  realize 
half  his  power  in  reading  his  speeches;  his  magnet- 
ism, his  charm,  his  force  that  holds  one  spellbound 
in  listening  —  all  that  will  be  lost  to  the  next  genera- 


232        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

tion,  and  it  is  that,  more  than  anything  else,  that  has 
made  him  remarkable.  I  took  out  my  watch  one  day 
to  see  how  long  he  would  take  for  a  certain  speech, 
and  I  found  myself  at  the  end  of  the  speech  still  hold- 
ing the  watch  in  my  hand,  entirely  forgotten." 

"  Then  the  years  have  brought  him  success,"  Na- 
talia reflected.  "  I  remember  his  great  ambition,  and 
a  phrase  of  his  —  1 1  want  to  show  the  world  that 
because  a  man  is  a  cripple  he  can  still  be  a  great 
man.'  » 

The  Judge  bowed  his  head,  enthusiastically. 

"  My  one  great  hope  is  that  I  shall  live  to  hear 
his  voice  sounding  in  the  walls  of  the  Capitol  at  Wash- 
ington.   It  will,  too,  one  of  these  days." 

"  Tell  me  about  his  success,"  Natalia  said,  leaning 
back  comfortably  against  his  knees. 

"  It  is  a  long,  long  story,  Natalia,  and  would  weary 
you  in  the  telling.  It  began  when  you  were  here. 
Don't  you  remember  the  trial  of  Phelps?  That 
started  him  on  the  upward  path,  and  it  also  had  a 
much  deeper  significance  than  the  world  ever  sup- 
posed. When  he  had  convicted  Phelps  it  troubled 
him  so  that  he  went  to  the  jail  with  the  object  of 
releasing  the  fellow.  Fortunately  for  Sargent,  Phelps 
never  knew  his  intention,  and  killed  himself,  and  ever 
since  then  Sargent  has  defended  any  and  every  crim- 
inal that  comes  to  him.  He  calls  it  his  life-work  — 
saving  men  so  as  to  give  them  another  chance.  After 
that  first  case,  he  was  sent  to  the  Legislature  and  now 
we  are  going  to  send  him  to  Congress  —  the  election 
takes  place  this  week.  After  that  he  says  he  is  com- 
ing back  here  and  settle  down  in  his  home  and  be 
content  to  practise  criminal  law,  which  he  has  made 


CANDLELIGHT  233 

his  special  work.  Some  day,  when  you  meet  him, 
get  him  to  tell  you  about  his  theory  in  regard  to  it; 
it  is  beautiful." 

"  When  I  meet  him,"  Natalia  reflected  softly.  "  It 
seems  that  I  shall  not  see  him  again,  Uncle  Felix; 
and  yet,  do  you  know,  this  place  is  not  the  same  to  me 
as  it  used  to  be,  and  I  believe  that  it  is  because  he  is 
not  here.  In  some  way  he  seems  to  be  very  closely 
woven  into  all  the  impressions  of  my  childhood  —  he 
and  Dicey."  Suddenly  she  turned  and  looked  up  into 
the  old  man's  face.  "  Uncle  Felix,  Dicey  told  me 
that  he  always  talked  of  the  time  when  I  should  come 
back  to  him.    Is  it  really  so  ?    Did  he  think  that  ?  " 

Judge  Houston  leaned  back,  so  that  the  protecting 
shadows  would  betray  no  expression  on  his  face.  It 
was  too  late  now  for  her  to  know.  He  would  tell  her 
nothing  that  would  in  any  way  tinge  her  happiness 
with  a  shade  of  sadness  or  regret.  When  he  answered 
her,  his  voice  was  steady,  almost  gay,  in  an  attempt 
at  carelessness. 

"  That  was  a  dream  of  mine,  Natalia.  You  and 
he  were  dearer  to  me  than  any  others  in  the  world. 
It  was  only  natural  that  I  should  have  hoped  that  you 
two  might  have  loved  each  other.  But  you  see,"  he 
sighed  in  mock  despair,  "  I  am  carrying  out  the  words 
of  the  prophet  —  '  your  old  men  shall  dream  dreams  ' 
—  and  I  am  a  very  old  man,  Natalia.  I  shall  be 
seventy-six  my  next  birthday." 

"  Seventy-six  years,"  Natalia  repeated,  absently, 
wondering  over  the  reason  for  his  not  replying  to 
her  question.  Could  it  be  that  what  Dicey  said  was 
true?  She  hurriedly  drove  the  doubt  from  her 
thoughts,  for  a  strange  fear  had  suddenly  crept  into 


234        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

her  consciousness  —  the  fear  that  her  great  happiness 
might  come  to  her  through  the  suffering  of  another. 
With  the  intuitive  perception  she  rose  from  her  stool 
with  a  start.  The  room  had  become  totally  dark; 
only  the  light  from  the  hall  threw  a  faint  shaft  into 
the  room. 

She  groped  her  way  to  the  tall  black  marble  mantel, 
over  which  hung  the  portrait  of  her  mother,  and  lit 
the  two  seven-branched  candlesticks.  Going  back  to 
the  stool,  she  sat  down  as  before,  resting  her  face  in 
her  hands  and  gazing  at  the  portrait. 

In  the  soft  glow  of  candlelight  the  room  looked 
enormous.  The  vista  made  by  the  two  mirrors  at  each 
end  and  directly  opposite  to  each  other  created  a  per- 
spective that  was  without  limit  in  its  repeated  reflec- 
tion. The  portrait  gained  a  semblance  of  life  from 
the  deep  shadows  and  high  lights,  and  looked  down 
from  its  gorgeous  gilt  frame  on  the  crimson  damask 
upholstery  and  rosewood  carvings,  with  the  affection 
that  years  of  association  had  created.  The  gleaming 
mahogany  floor  gathered  into  its  embrace  the  reflec- 
tion, and  in  the  subdued  light  and  the  strange  fra- 
grance of  passed  years  breathing  life  into  the  speech- 
less objects,  Natalia  felt  that  she  was  growing  nearer 
to  what  it  all  represented  to  her  than  she  had  ever 
been  before. 

"  Seventy-six  years,"  she  said  again  thoughtfully. 
"  How  beautiful  to  grow  old  as  you  have  done,  Uncle 
Felix.  Nay,  is  it  growing  old?  It  seems  to  me  that 
with  you  and  Aunt  Maria  it  has  been  a  gradual  grow- 
ing nearer  to  a  beautiful  future  life  —  a  gentle  ap- 
proach towards  God.  I  wonder  if  I  shall  grow  old 
that  way,  or  die  in  the  heyday  of  my  youth  and  hap- 


CANDLELIGHT  235 

piness  —  as  my  mother  did.  To  think  that  I  never 
knew  her,"  she  sighed,  when  she  had  looked  a  long 
time  at  the  portrait.  "  And  now  when  I  seem  to 
think  of  her  most,  when  I  feel  that  I  need  her  —  she 
is  gone.  Can  there  be  a  greater  loss  to  a  girl  than 
not  to  know  a  mother  ?  And  I  shall  never  know  what 
it  is !  Sometimes  it  makes  me  very  sad  when  I  realize 
there  is  no  one  from  whom  I  can  claim  anything  — 
no  one  to  whom  I  can  go  and  demand  things  because 
of  the  ties  of  blood.  Even  you  and  Aunt  Maria  are 
really  no  kin  —  are  not  tied  except  by  love." 

The  old  man  leaned  forward  and  turned  her  face 
towards  him. 

"  Could  any  ties  be  stronger  than  those  of  love?  " 
he  smiled  into  her  eyes. 

"  I  know,  dear  Uncle  Felix,"  she  pressed  his 
hands  as  she  answered,  "  but  the  tie  of  blood  is  a 
very  wonderful  thing.  It  makes  me  feel  so  dreadfully 
lonely  at  times,  to  know  that  you,  that  Morgan,  that 
every  one  is  doing  for  me  not  because  they  ought  to, 
but  because  they  love  me  —  perhaps  pity  me.  Prob- 
ably I  express  myself  badly,  and  yet  —  you  must 
know  what  I  mean.  It  is  lack  of  that  right  to  lean 
on  some  one  for  help  and  protection,  and  feel  that  you 
are  only  demanding  of  him  what  it  is  his  duty  to  give. 
That  is  what  I  expect  my  marriage  to  bring  me." 

Judge  Houston  leaned  nearer  to  her,  intently  watch- 
ing the  changing  expressions  that  played  across  her 
face,  and  which  seemed  to  gather  brilliancy  from  the 
portrait  towards  which  she  looked.  His  eye  wan- 
dered from  the  painted  face  to  the  living  reproduc- 
tion, then  back  again  —  and  between  them  there  rose 
before  him  his  old  bridge  of  dreams  —  dreams  which 


236         THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

the  last  month  had  shattered.  Again  he  felt  an  almost 
overwhelming  desire  to  tell  her  of  that  dream  which 
was  but  the  reflection  of  the  dream  of  another;  if 
it  were  only  possible  to  let  her  know  of  the  plans  and 
talks  and  hopes  that  he  and  the  other  one  had  made 
their  guiding  star  for  years !  But  he  could  not  —  his 
duty  to  her  kept  him  silent,  and  in  her  love  he  realized 
the  hopelessness  of  his  own  desires. 

Then  in  the  more  than  three-score  years  of  calm 
restraint  and  self-denial,  his  deep  affection  for  the 
man  who  had  become  his  son  rushed  over  him  and 
made  him  speak. 

"  Natalia,"  he  hurried  over  the  words,  "  there  is 
something  I  want  to  know  —  from  your  own  lips." 

"  You  can  ask  me  anything,  Uncle  Felix."  She 
turned  her  face  towards  him  with  the  frankness  of 
a  child.    "  I  have  no  secrets  that  I  would  not  tell  you." 

His  hand  rested  on  her  shoulder  while  he  searched 
her  eyes. 

"  How  great  is  your  love  for  Morgan  Talbot  ?  " 

Natalia  met  his  eyes  seriously  for  a  few  moments; 
and  then  she  laughed  softly. 

"  What  a  question,  Uncle  Felix,  and  particularly 
when  it  comes  from  you !  How  great  is  my  love  for 
the  man  I  am  going  to  marry?  Do  you  know  me  so 
little  that  you  deem  such  a  question  necessary  ?  " 

"  No.  But  I  know  you  so  well  that  I  know  that 
you  will  tell  me  the  truth  —  that  is,  if  you  answer 
me  seriously." 

Gradually  the  smile  faded  into  a  pensive  expression, 
and  Natalia  turned  slowly  back  to  where  the  gleaming 
portrait  held  her  attention  again. 

"  How  great  is  my  love,"  she  murmured  as  if  in 


CANDLELIGHT  237 

self-questioning.  "  How  great  is  my  love  ?  Why, 
Uncle  Felix,  how  do  I  know  how  great  it  is?  What 
is  there  for  me  to  compare  it  to  ?  " 

The  old  man  leaned  towards  her,  and  though  her 
face  was  turned  from  him  when  he  spoke,  she  felt 
that  there  was  something  left  unsaid  behind  his  words. 

"  Is  this  the  first  time  you  have  loved  ?  Is  there 
nothing  that  went  before,  by  which  you  can  judge?  " 

"  No,  nothing."  Natalia  turned  and  searched  his 
eyes  for  the  hidden  meaning.  "  I  have  never  been 
in  love  before,  unless  — "  her  face  flushed  slightly 
as  she  found  his  meaning,  "  unless  it  were  my  old 
admiration  for  Sargent  Everett.  But  then  I  was  too 
young  to  know." 

Judge  Houston  leaned  back  once  more  into  the  pro- 
tecting shadows  of  the  wall.  It  had  come  at  last, 
he  sighed  to  himself,  and  she  had  been  the  first  to 
mention  it. 

14  And  is  this  love  that  you  now  feel,  like  the  first  ?  " 

"  No."  She  shook  her  head,  her  face  saddening 
sweetly.  "  No.  I  adored  Sargent  Everett.  It  was 
worship.  A  girl  only  has  that  experience  once  in  her 
life;  fortunately  it  came  to  me  early  and  I  outgrew 
it.  But  I  remember  it  painfully  well.  It  is  the  sort 
of  feeling  that  one  must  have  who  bows  down  and 
worships  a  god,  and  sees  that  god  returning  his  af- 
fection —  can  there  be  any  sensation  more  wonderful ! 
And  all  the  incidents  of  our  association  naturally 
added  a  picturesqueness  that  impressed  my  childish 
imagination,  coloured  it,  and  made  his  image  sink 
very  deep  upon  my  mind.  This  morning  when  I  went 
out  to  the  old  bench  under  the  magnolias  where  he 
and  I  used  to  sit,  I  actually  felt  a  return  of  my  old 


238        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

love  for  him.  I  actually  forgot  Morgan  for  the  mo- 
ment! "    She  ended  with  a  happy  laugh. 

"Tell  me  then,"  Judge  Houston  asked  after  a 
pause.  u  How  does  this  other  love  differ  from  the 
first?" 

She  clasped  her  hands  in  her  lap  and  leaned  back 
against  the  sofa,  her  eyes  half  closed  in  meditation. 
Finally,  with  a  graceful  movement,  she  put  out  her 
hand  and  drew  the  old  man's  into  hers. 

"  My  love  for  Morgan,"  she  began  slowly.  "  How 
can  I  ever  describe  it!  It  did  not  come  to  me  sud- 
denly —  it  was  more  the  outgrowth  of  association  — 
a  drifting  into  it  without  realization.  Is  it  not 
always  that  way?"  She  lifted  her  face  towards  the 
old  man  intently,  and  found  him  looking  down  at  her 
with  a  sad  expression  that  she  did  not  understand. 

"  You  say  you  found  it  that  way?  " 

"  Yes,  Uncle  Felix,"  Natalia  answered  gayly. 
"  Now  please  don't  upbraid  me  for  not  falling  in  love 
at  first  sight.  You  know  such  things  don't  happen 
nowadays.  I  first  met  Morgan  at  the  boarding 
school  where  Mamma  Brandon  sent  me.  Millicent 
was  there  with  me  at  the  time,  and  through  our  friend- 
ship I  began  to  hear  stories  of  her  beautiful  brother 
whom  she  described  as  the  acme  of  all  that  was  hand- 
some and  brave  and  wonderful.  You  must  remember 
we  were  only  twelve  then.  It  is  rather  a  strange 
thing,  now,  as  things  have  eventuated,  that  I  used  to 
answer  all  her  descriptions  of  Morgan  with  effusions 
about  Sargent  Everett.  Then  I  met  him.  You  can 
see  the  impression  he  would  be  likely  to  make  upon 
a  lonely  little  school-girl,  away  from  the  few  people 
who  had  ever  loved  her.     Naturally  the  absent  scene 


CANDLELIGHT  239 

faded  as  the  years  passed,  and  I  found  myself  living 
only  in  the  world  about  me  —  a  world  filled  with  all 
the  interests  of  the  school  and  my  broadening  educa- 
tion, and  made  a  place  of  enchantment  to  me  by  the 
kindness  and  affection  of  Morgan's  family.  They 
made  me  one  of  them.  And  when  the  day  of  real 
freedom  came,  when  I  left  school  to  enter  the  world, 
with  the  enormous  accretions  from  my  plantations 
which  you  and  Mamma  Brandon  had  so  skilfully 
managed  for  me  —  everything  was  perfect.  Ah,  it 
was  beautiful !  That  first  year  of  my  real  life.  I  can 
remember  exactly  my  sensations  the  night  I  made  my 
debut.  We  went  to  the  opera  first  to  hear  Jenny  Lind 
sing,  and  afterwards  there  was  a  big  ball.  I  carried 
a  beautiful  bouquet  of  lilies  of  the  valley  -. —  oh,  Uncle 
Felix,  it  was  gorgeous !  That  was  two  years  ago. 
Since  then,  you  know  how  I  have  travelled,  how  I 
spent  a  year  in  Europe,  losing  myself  in  the  shadows 
of  all  that  historic  past,  all  that  overpowering  pro- 
cession of  events  that  has  left  its  monuments  for  us 
to  wonder  over.  .  .  .  Those  were  carefree  days, 
happy  and  thoughtless,  with  no  suspicion  of  a  to- 
morrow, and  in  them,  with  me  —  for  long  periods  of 
travel  —  was  Morgan  —  always  faithful,  always  at- 
tentive, always  an  ideal  lover.  I  never  thought  of 
marrying  him  then  —  at  least  never  seriously,  until 
I  came  back  from  Europe,  and  found  that  the  same 
things  that  filled  my  life  before  amused  me  no  longer. 
I  was  tired  of  playing,  Uncle  Felix,  I  had  played  too 
much.  Something  within  called  me  to  the  great  prob- 
lems of  life  —  I  felt  that  I  wanted  to  be  in  touch 
with  people  whose  lives  were  amounting  to  something, 
who  were  doing  good  in  the  world  and  helping  others. 


240        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

I  seemed  to  realize  then,  for  the  first  time,  that  I  was 
drifting  along  in  a  happiness  that  would  bring  me 
nothing  in  the  future,  and  I  saw  myself  in  my  old 
age,  when  my  youth  and  freshness  and  beauty  were 
all  gone,  as  a  little  child,  without  any  one  dependent 
upon  me  for  their  happiness.  I  think  it  was  that, 
Uncle  Felix,"  and  she  drew  his  hand  gently  to  her 
cheek,  "  that  opened  my  eyes  to  Morgan's  love.  He 
was  there,  waiting  to  give  me  a  protection  and  haven 
from  that  awful  lonely  future.  And  I  thought  of 
you  and  Aunt  Maria  growing  old  together  so  beau- 
tifully, and  I  know  now,  Uncle  Felix,  that  Morgan 
and  I  shall  do  the  same.  .  .  .  When  I  have  a  child, 
Uncle  Felix,  think  how  everything  that  has  gone  be- 
fore will  be  as  nothing!  When  I  have  one  that  is 
mine,  a  part  of  me  —  that  is  what  will  make  my  life 
divine !  "  Suddenly  she  put  her  hands  up  to  his  face 
and  kissed  him.  "  Forgive  me!  Forgive  me!  I  did 
not  mean  to  wound  you.  I  did  not  mean  to  thrust 
my  happiness  at  you  —  so." 

There  were  tears  in  the  old  man's  eyes  as  she  talked 
on,  lost  in  her  own  narration,  and  when  she  looked 
up  at  him  again,  they  were  streaming  down  his  cheeks. 
She  rose  from  the  stool  and  slipped  on  to  the  sofa 
beside  him,  pulling  his  arm  around  her  waist,  so  that 
her  face  lay  close  against  his,  with  the  silence  deep- 
ening between  them. 

"  Uncle  Felix,"  she  began  again,  after  having  risen 
and  carefully  snuffed  the  candles  on  the  mantel.  "  I 
have  never  told  any  one  what  I  have  told  you  to- 
night; indeed,  there  was  no  one  to  tell  —  not  even 
Morgan.  It  was  my  thought  of  you  and  this  dear 
old  place  that  made  me  wish  to  solemnize  my  marriage 


CANDLELIGHT  241 

here.  It  may  be  the  last  time  I  shall  ever  be  here, 
at  least  for  many,  many  years;  yet  now  that  I  have 
come  back,  and  all  the  past  has  rushed  over  me  with 
all  its  old  charm  and  fascination  —  I  feel  that  I  should 
like  to  remain  here  always.  There  is  something  so 
protected  and  safe  here  —  an  aloofness  from  the  world 
that  would  save  one  from  almost  every  suffering. 
But  of  course  it  is  impossible."  She  stirred  rest- 
lessly. "  Already  Morgan  is  growing  impatient,  and 
wants  to  get  back  to  the  rush  and  stir  of  a  city."  She 
rose  and  with  both  hands  pulled  the  old  gentleman 
up  after  her.  "  Let's  go  back  to  the  others  now. 
But  first  —  I  may  never  have  the  chance  to  speak  to 
you  of  it  again  —  tell  Sargent  Everett  of  my  deep 
affection  for  him  still  —  tell  him  that  I  shall  always 
be  grateful  for  his  having  made  me  a  very  happy 
little  girl,  and  that  the  only  thing  that  marred  my 
happiness  on  my  wedding  day  was  his  absence.  Now, 
let's  go  back  to  Morgan." 


CHAPTER    VI 

HIS    WEDDING    PRESENT 

The  wedding  day  came  —  a  beautiful  day,  filled 
with  the  glory  of  June  sunshine,  warm,  sweet,  bril- 
liant —  bringing  in  its  perfection  omens  of  great  hap- 
piness. 

The  old  home  gained  in  beauty  as  the  grove  about 
it  grew  heavily  laden  with  the  honeyed  fragrance  of 
the  magnolia  blossoms,  and  the  deep  green  leaves 
became  even  more  varnished  and  glistening.  The  cool 
shadows  and  the  topaz  patches  of  sunlight  mingled 
upon  the  tall  columns;  the  red-tiled  roof  glowed  as 
if  with  an  understanding  of  its  responsibility  that 
day. 

Natalia  rose  in  the  early  morning  and  passing 
through  the  hall,  where  already  there  were  signs  of 
much  stirring  and  preparation,  went  out  into  the  gar- 
den. It  was  still  very  early.  The  first  smoke  from 
the  quarters  was  curling  lazily  upward,  and  from  the 
barn  came  the  tinkling  sound  of  bells  as  the  cows 
were  led  into  the  pens  for  milking;  and  all  through 
the  atmosphere,  insistent  and  penetrating,  was  that 
indefinable,  vibrating  sound  of  nature  awakening  in 
the  early  morning. 

The  garden  greeted  her  with  a  burst  of  bloom, 
veiled  timidly  in  its  protection  of  dew.    She  lifted  her 

242 


HIS    WEDDING   PRESENT         243 

face  to  the  soft  air,  and  breathed  the  delicious  fra- 
grance of  the  honeysuckle.  Everything  was  perfect 
to  her  at  this  moment.  She  looked  through  the  eyes 
of  one  to  whom  the  world  has  become  a  consumma- 
tion of  ideals. 

She  lingered  beside  the  pomegranate  bush,  smiling 
as  she  vainly  sought  for  the  jay-bird's  nest  that  she 
had  found  there  when  a  child;  then  she  strolled  on 
into  the  depths  of  the  grove.  How  fortunate  she 
was,  she  reflected,  as  her  eyes  lingered  on  all  her 
surroundings,  to  have  this  quiet,  beautiful  spot  in 
which  to  solemnize  the  marriage  that  was  to  bring 
her  completeness.  How  perfect  that  her  honeymoon 
should  be  spent  in  the  surroundings  that  her  mother 
and  father  had  known  at  such  a  time.  In  each  detail 
she  imagined  she  could  discover  some  preference  of 
theirs ;  in  the  quiet  and  aloofness  of  the  early  morn- 
ing she  felt  intuitively  that  they  were  with  her. 

The  sound  of  a  step  behind  her  made  her  turn 
quickly,  a  quick  frown  at  the  interruption  changing 
instantly  into  a  smile  of  happiness,  for  Morgan  had 
seen  her  from  his  window  and  followed  her. 

"  It  is  our  wedding  day,  sweetheart,"  he  said  when 
he  had  reached  her  and  put  his  arm  about  her.  "  Our 
wedding  day  —  think  of  it !  May  I  be  the  first  to 
kiss  you  on  such  an  important  day?  " 

Natalia  looked  up  at  him  thoughtfully,  dwelling 
with  a  tender  glance  upon  his  bright,  manly  face 
and  fair  hair.  In  the  morning  brilliance  he  shone 
resplendent,  catching,  as  if  by  natural  attraction,  all 
the  beauty  and  freshness  of  the  day  in  his  brilliant 
colouring  and  deep  blue  eyes. 

"  Is  it  such  an  important  day  ?  "  Natalia  answered 


244        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

softly.  "  I  sometimes  wonder  if  marriage  is  not  an 
anticlimax.  The  greatest  moment  to  me  was  when 
I  realized  that  I  loved  you.  Nothing  will  ever  equal 
the  joy  of  that  —  not  even  our  wedding." 

"  That  is  a  girl's  way  of  looking  at  it,"  Morgan 
laughed  easily.  "  With  a  man  it  is  quite  different. 
You  see,  dear,  he  fears  so  that  the  girl  might  change 
her  mind,  that  he  is  not  really  happy  and  satisfied 
until  she  actually  belongs  to  him." 

"  There  you  go,  Morgan."  Natalia  looked  away, 
answering  his  smile  half-heartedly.  "  Joking  when 
I  am  serious.  But  it  is  very  fortunate,  I  suppose.  I 
should  always  see  the  serious  side  of  life  if  it  were 
not  for  you.  I  am  so  glad  that  we  are  different,  dear. 
You  see  —  we  are  antidotes.  You  correct  my  serious- 
ness —  I  sober  your  lightheadedness." 

Morgan  looked  at  her  curiously. 

M  Yet  you  can  be  as  gay  as  I,  Natalia.  You  were 
so  at  school;  you  were  on  our  long  voyage  together. 
It  is  only  since  we  have  been  engaged  that  you 
have  changed.  What  is  it?  Are  you  not  entirely 
happy  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  am  —  the  happiest  woman  in  the 
world!  Only  I  feel  my  happiness  differently  from 
you.  It  is  a  more  serious  thing  to  me.  It's  my  na- 
ture, I  suppose.  I've  been  trying  all  my  life  to  let 
people  know  how  happy  I  was,  and  even  when  in  my 
most  melancholy  spells  I  found  a  certain  quiet  peace, 
I  had  to  appear  gay  to  keep  others  from  thinking  I 
was  miserable.  It's  a  trick  of  mine,  to  hide  my  real 
feelings,  I  suppose.  We're  all  acting,  anyhow,  don't 
you  think  so  ?  " 

11  No,  I'm  not,"  Talbot  smiled  down  at  her  gayly. 


HIS    WEDDING    PRESENT         245 

"  I  honestly  believe  I  am  as  nearly  frank  as  people 
get.  I  never  could  hide  my  emotions,  and  I've  never 
yet  learned  to  control  my  anger." 

"  How  dreadfully  you  frighten  me,  Morgan."  Na- 
talia frowned  in  assumed  fear.  "  Suppose  you  should 
get  angry  with  me  —  would  you  treat  me  very  badly  ? 
Would  you  whip  me?"  She  laughed  outright. 
"  Dicey  says  there  used  to  be  an  old  farmer  here  who 
whipped  his  wife  every  Saturday  night  because  he 
said  it  was  the  only  way  a  man  could  make  a  woman 
respect  him.  And  she  also  says  that  when  the  man 
was  sent  to  jail  for  stealing  his  neighbour's  cow,  that 
his  wife  zvould  go  with  him.  Such  a  case  makes  one 
ponder,  doesn't  it,  Morgan,  as  to  which  is  the  right 
way  to  hold  another's  love?  " 

"  I'll  never  treat  you  that  way,  Natalia,  because," 
and  he  hesitated,  half-serious,  "  I'm  almost  afraid  of 
you  at  times  —  when  your  eyes  grow  very  black  and 
the  colour  fades  out  of  your  face.  I  don't  know 
whether  it  is  anger,  or  what.  It  makes  you  wonder- 
fully beautiful,  though." 

"  I  know  —  it  is  when  I'm  very  intense.  It's  when 
my  Spanish  blood  is  aroused.  Sometimes  I  have  felt 
that  I  was  acting  without  my  own  volition  —  that 
some  one  else,  a  new  nature  within  me,  was  com- 
pelling me  on  to  something  I  was  helpless  to  combat. 
I  will  tell  you  about  it  some  day,  but  not  this  morn- 
ing. I've  determined  to  let  nothing  mar  our  happi- 
ness to-day.  But  I  have  a  request  to  make,"  she  ended 
tentatively. 

"  Anything  in  the  world  —  you  have  only  to  name 
it,"  Morgan  replied  promptly,  swinging  her  hand  in 
his,  to  and  fro,  like  a  happy  schoolboy. 


246        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

"  Do  you  know,  sir,"  Natalia  began,  with  mincing 
manner  and  chiding  voice,  "  that  you  spent  all  of 
yesterday  afternoon  and  the  one  before,  away  from 
me  —  and  worst  of  all  —  with  Mr.  Jervais !  " 

Morgan's  face  showed  his  evident  surprise. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me,  Natalia,  that  you 
objected  to  that!  Certainly  you  didn't  want  me  to 
stay  here  all  the  time  listening  to  you  women  folks 
discuss  trousseaux  and  wedding  cakes !  " 

Natalia  smiled  at  him  silently. 

"  That  must  be  a  very  attractive  place  —  that  Man- 
sion House,"  she  commented  archly. 

"  The  tavern !    What  do  you  know  about  it  ?  " 

"  Uncle  Felix  told  me  how  popular  you  were  there 
—  how  many  friends  you  had  made  already.  It  doesn't 
take  a  very  lively  imagination  to  picture  the  poker 
games  there,  for  I've  heard  of  them  ever  since  I  could 
remember.  There  were  great  old  days,  then,  and  still 
are,  I  fancy,  if  you  men  would  only  tell  about  it.  But, 
seriously,  Morgan,  don't  go  this  afternoon.  Promise 
me. 

Morgan's  face  had  clouded  as  she  ended,  and  slip- 
ping his  arm  around  her  he  led  her  towards  the  bench 
on  the  brow  of  the  hill. 

"  Listen,  Natalia,"  he  said,  when  they  had  sat 
down.  "  Something  happened  yesterday  which  I  did 
not  want  you  to  know.  Now,  I  see  I  had  best  tell 
you.  Lemuel  Jervais  and  I  got  into  a  pretty  reckless 
game  of  poker  all  the  afternoon.  Towards  the  end 
I  think  he  must  have  reached  the  limit  of  his  ready 
resources,  for  when  every  one  had  withdrawn  and  he 
and  I  were  sticking  it  out,  he  said  he  was  going  to 
pay  me  in  slaves,  if  he  lost.    You  know  my  feelings 


HIS    WEDDING    PRESENT         247 

in  regard  to  slavery.  So  when  it  came  to  that,  I  threw 
down  my  hand  and  said  I  was  not  gambling  for  human 
beings !  "  Morgan  dropped  his  hands  between  his 
knees  and  stared  before  him  in  silence.  "  It  was  all 
rather  unfortunate,  but  I  suppose  couldn't  be  helped," 
he  continued.  "  What  makes  it  a  little  embarrassing  to 
me  is  that  Jervais  insisted  that  I  should  go  back  again 
to-day  and  finish  the  game." 

"But  you  didn't  agree  to  it,  did  you?"  Natalia 
exclaimed. 

"  What  else  could  I  do?  "  Morgan  answered  rather 
gloomily.  "  He  is  my  host  and  yours,  and  would  take 
offence  —  particularly  as  I  have  been  the  winner  all 
along.  Besides,  it  wouldn't  do  not  to  go  for  a  little 
while.  Do  you  know  what  I've  decided  to  do  ?  "  he 
added,  bright  again.  "  I'm  going  to  let  Jervais  win 
rather  heavily,  and  then  suggest  that  we  come  back 
here." 

Natalia  met  his  brightness  only  half-way. 

*  I  suppose  you  will  have  to  do  it,  but  you  will  come 
back  soon  ?  " 

"  You  have  my  word  for  it." 

"  Well,  then,  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  be  contented." 
Natalia  smiled  again.  "  But  after  to-day,  when 
everybody  has  gone  away,  and  Brother  Joel  and  Mil- 
licent  are  on  their  way  to  New  Orleans,  and  we  shall 
be  here  all  alone  —  you  must  not  let  a  single  thing, 
no  matter  how  great,  take  you  away  from  me.  Just 
you  and  I  —  all  alone !  I've  planned  each  day  — 
almost  every  moment !  " 

They  strolled  a  little  way  down  the  hill,  to  where 
the  ground  rolled  precipitately  to  the  river.  The 
opposite  shore  was  still  grey  and  misty  with  the  re- 


248         THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

treating  night,  and  over  the  stretch  of  wilderness  hung 
a  blue  veil  of  mystery. 

"  The  Indians  call  it  '  The  Land  of  the  Setting 
Sun,'  "  Natalia  said,  looking  out  before  her.  "  Poor 
wild  creatures !  It  seems  the  only  land  left  them  now. 
To  me  it  always  seemed  the  future.  One  thinks  one 
sees  it,  yet  it  is  all  vague  and  unknown." 

"  That  is  not  the  way  with  our  future,  though, " 
Morgan  replied,  gathering  Natalia  in  his  arms. 
"  Ours  is  neither  vague  nor  unknown.  This  day  is 
a  symbol  of  what  it  is  to  be.  It  will  be  only  happi- 
ness," he  kissed  her,  "  happiness  —  and  happiness 
again !  " 

The  day  deepened  in  beauty  as  the  hours  passed, 
and  all  the  while  elaborate  decorations  were  being 
arranged  throughout  the  house.  Many  friends  came, 
bringing  wagon  loads  of  trailing  vines  and  ferns  and 
wild  hydrangeas.  Festoons  of  Southern  smilax  were 
twined  about  the  columns  and  draped  from  one  to  the 
other,  so  that  the  old  house  looked  gay  and  youthful, 
as  it  had  many  years  ago;  and  along  the  veranda, 
tables  were  placed  on  which  stood  tall  crystal  globes 
protecting  the  candles  which  were  to  illumine  the  place 
at  nightfall;  and  along  the  balustrade  of  the  upper 
balcony  was  a  row  of  candles  which  encircled  the 
house,  and  would  make  it  a  blaze  of  glory. 

In  the  grove  hundreds  of  transparences  were  hung 
high  among  the  thick  foliage,  vying  with  the  white 
blossoms  in  doing  honour  to  the  occasion;  two  big 
piles  of  brush  were  placed  far  out  on  the  road  beyond 
the  gate,  which  were  to  be  set  ablaze  in  the  evening 
and  light  the  late  arrivals  on  their  way. 


HIS    WEDDING    PRESENT         249 

Within,  the  large  salon  was  heavy  with  the  odour 
of  gardenias.  The  walls  were  covered  with  the  fra- 
grant blossoms  and  from  the  corners  of  the  ceiling 
to  where  the  bronze  chandelier  swung  with  its  hun- 
dred and  fifty  candles,  garlands  of  ivy  were  draped. 
Across  the  hall,  the  dining-room  floor  was  waxed  until 
Zebediah  pronounced  it  too  slippery  for  any  one  to 
stand  upon,  much  less  attempt  dancing.  Even  the 
library  was  thrown  open,  a  thing  never  done  before 
in  entertaining,  and  all  the  wedding  presents  displayed 
there  —  presents  that  brought  smiles  and  tears  to 
Natalia,  for  in  many  of  these  gifts  she  realized  that 
the  friends  of  her  parents  were  parting  with  their 
heirlooms  to  do  her  honour.  There  were  priceless 
pieces  of  Sevres  china;  a  huge  punch  bowl  of  Bohe- 
mian glass,  the  sides  cut  in  broad  panels  which  showed 
layers  of  rose  and  cream;  candlesticks  in  bronze  and 
brass  and  silver;  many  pieces  of  Sheffield  plate  and 
silver  that  had  come  to  America  with  its  early  settlers  ; 
and,  causing  more  trouble  and  amusement  than  all  the 
other  presents,  a  magnificent  peacock  sent  by  old  Mrs. 
Buckingham,  which  thought  its  special  duty  was  to 
make  the  air  ring  with  hideous  cries. 

In  the  late  afternoon  Natalia  went  down  the  stairs 
on  the  back  veranda  to  inspect  the  last  touches  that 
Mrs.  Jervais  and  Mrs.  Houston  were  giving  the  sup- 
per table.  The  veranda  had  been  enclosed  the  whole 
length  in  osnaburgs,  and  a  long  table  extended  from 
one  end  to  the  other,  literally  groaning  under  the 
weight  of  appetizing  delicacies. 

Already  the  front  of  the  house  was  gay  with  the 
people  who  had  driven  many  miles  to  the  wedding, 
and   whose   carriages   and    wagons   were   encamped 


250        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

without  the  gates  awaiting  the  return  to  them  in  the 
early  morning;  for  it  was  the  custom  of  those  days 
to  spend  the  entire  night  in  jollification,  the  fiddlers 
never  resting  their  bows  until  the  sunlight  clashed 
with  candle-light. 

"  Oh,  Natalia,  look  at  those  nougat  pyramids ! 
Aren't  they  dreams !  n  Millicent  cried.  "  I  know  they 
must  be  six  feet  high." 

"  They  were  made  in  New  Orleans,"  commented 
Mrs.  Jervais,  proudly,  following  the  two  girls  as  they 
moved  down  the  table  inspecting  everything. 

"  Won't  it  be  a  pity  to  break  them  ?  But  of  course 
every  one  will  want  a  souvenir  to  take  home.  Na- 
talia, I  think  you  ought  to  keep  one  whole  in  memory 
of  the  day.  And  there's  the  wedding  cake!  In  five 
terraces!  Isn't  it  beautiful?  Where  in  the  world  did 
you  get  it,  Mrs.  Houston  ?  " 

Mrs.  Houston's  eyes  lit  up  with  enthusiasm. 

"  I  made  every  bit  of  it  myself.  It  took  the  whites 
of  fifty  eggs !  " 

"  What  on  earth  did  you  do  with  the  yelks  ?  "  ex- 
claimed Millicent,  dumbfounded. 

"  Is  there  nothing  I  can  do?  "  Natalia  said,  putting 
her  arms  about  the  old  lady,  and  kissing  her  cheek. 
"  How  good  you  all  are  to  me !  I  seem  to  grow  hap- 
pier every  moment  —  " 

The  clang  of  the  door-bell  broke  on  her  unfinished 
words,  and  in  the  next  moment  a  servant  had  entered 
with  a  note.  Natalia  took  it  from  the  salver,  and 
glanced  at  the  address,  drawing  her  brows  together, 
as  if  in  recollection.  The  others  waited  silently  im- 
patient. 

"  Do  open  it,  Natalia,"  Millicent  cried.     "  I  know 


HIS    WEDDING    PRESENT         251 

it's  another  wedding  present.  Won't  you  read  it 
aloud?" 

Natalia  still  held  the  note  in  her  hand,  thoughtfully- 
regarding  it. 

"  I'm  trying  to  remember  whose  writing  it  is.  It's 
very  familiar.  Oh,  I  know  now !  It's  Sargent  Ever- 
ett's." 

She  tore  open  the  envelope,  letting  it  fall  to  the 
floor  as  she  hurriedly  read  the  note.  When  she  looked 
up  again,  the  tears  were  streaming  down  her  face. 

"  He  has  sent  me  the  most  precious  wedding  pres- 
ent in  the  world,"  she  cried  with  a  sob  in  her  voice. 
"  He  has  given  Mammy  back  to  me !  " 

She  ran  through  the  dining-room,  and  down  the 
full  length  of  the  hall,  and  out  on  to  the  front  porch, 
throwing  herself  into  the  old  slave's  arms. 

"  He  has  given  you  to  me,  Mammy !  He  has  given 
you  to  me !  You're  mine  —  you  dear  old  Mammy 
Dicey!  Come  on  upstairs  to  my  room,  and  tell  me 
all  about  it.  Mammy,  I'm  getting  everything  in  the 
world  to-day.  Isn't  it  wonderful?  And  now  you've 
come  back  to  me!  " 

She  pulled  the  old  woman  up  the  steps  beside  her, 
and  into  the  big  room  where  they  had  spent  many 
hours  together. 

It  was  about  dusk,  and  the  room  was  in  the  quiet 
gloom  of  twilight.  Natalia  locked  the  door  after 
they  had  entered,  and  pushing  a  big  arm  chair  close 
beside  the  bed,  she  led  Dicey  who  stood  in  the  centre 
of  the  room,  dazed  into  forgetfulness  by  the  familiar 
objects  about  her,  to  it,  and  made  her  sit  down  while 
she  threw  herself  on  the  bed  and  drew  the  old  slave's 
hands  into  both  her  own. 


252        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

"  It's  like  old  times,  isn't  it,  Mammy?  Just  exactly 
like  it  used  to  be  —  you  there  beside  me  when  I  went 
to  sleep.  Oh,  Mammy,  I'm  so  happy!  I  want  to  cry 
just  a  little  like  I  used  to,  and  you  hold  my  hand  and 
pat  it  and  sing  to  me,  —  very  soft  and  low,  ah !  now !  " 

And  with  the  light  gently  fading  from  behind  the 
bowed  blinds,  and  the  room  sinking  into  darkness,  the 
old  slave  chanted  softly,  with  the  tears  streaming 
down  her  furrowed  cheeks : 

"Whar,  oh,  whar  am  de  Hebrew  chillun, 
Whar,  oh,  whar  am  de  Hebrew  chillun, 
Whar,  oh,  whar  am  de  Hebrew  chillun, 
Way  ober  in  de  promis'  Ian'." 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE    HOUR    OF   THE   WEDDING 

Evening  closed  about  the  old  home;  the  candles 
in  the  garden  began  to  glimmer  and  throw  a  fairylike 
glow  through  the  shrubbery;  the  two  great  bonfires 
on  each  side  of  the  gate  were  lighted  and  illumined  the 
road  for  near  a  mile.  Carriages  began  rolling  up  to 
the  front  door  and  discharging  their  elaborately  cos- 
tumed occupants.  The  sound  of  laughter  and  merry 
voices  floated  up  in  waves,  and  in  the  distance  came 
the  wail  of  fiddles  being  tuned. 

Suddenly  a  rap  sounded  on  the  door ;  the  sanctuary 
of  the  two  reunited  women  was  broken. 

"Natalia!  Natalia!  All  the  guests  are  arriving." 
Millicent  called  in  an  excited  voice.  "  Have  you  be- 
gun to  dress?  Do  let  me  in!  It's  scandalous  for 
them  to  be  so  late !  " 

Natalia  sprang  from  the  bed  and  hurried  to  the 
door. 

"  Is  it  really  late?  "  she  exclaimed,  as  Millicent  burst 
into  the  room.  "  I  hadn't  an  idea  time  was  flying  so. 
Mammy  and  I  had  gone  back  years  and  years,  and 
forgotten  everything.     Is  Morgan  ready  ?  " 

"  Ready !  I  should  think  not !  "  Millicent  answered. 
"  Do  you  know,  neither  he  nor  Joel  nor  Mr.  Jervais 
have  come  back  yet;  and  they  have  been  gone  for 
hours.  Mrs.  Houston  sent  the  Judge  in  an  hour  ago 
to  bring  them  back.     It's  perfectly  dreadful  for  them 

263 


254        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

to  behave  like  this,  and  I  intend  to  tell  them  so  as  soon 
as  they  come !  " 

Natalia  listened  calmly,  then  turned  away  to  hide 
the  anxiety  in  her  eyes. 

"  They  will  be  here  before  we  know  it,"  she  an- 
swered, after  a  little  while,  forcing  a  smile  to  her  lips. 
"  I  suppose  they  became  interested  in  some  discussion 
and  forgot  all  about  the  time.  Just  like  men!  But 
do  hurry,  Millicent,  and  come  back  as  soon  as  you 
can  to  help  me  dress.  Now,  Mammy,"  she  turned 
back  to  Dicey,  stopping  a  moment  to  survey  herself 
in  the  cheval  glass.  "  Are  you  going  to  help  make 
me  very  beautiful  to-night?  I  believe  I'll  wear  my 
hair  like  I  used  to.  It's  dreadfully  unfashionable 
now,  but  I  believe  it's  becoming." 

She  sat  down  in  the  chair,  and  unloosening  her  hair, 
let  it  fall  in  waves  about  her.  Clasping  her  hands 
tight  in  her  lap,  she  looked  steadily  before  her,  the 
anxiety  creeping  back  into  her  eyes.  All  the  while 
Dicey  watched  her  closely.  In  the  old  woman's  eyes 
the  strange  look  had  come  again.  It  was  burning 
brilliantly  now. 

"  I  wish  he  had  come  sooner.  I  wish  —  "  Natalia 
lifted  her  head  resolutely  —  "I  mean  platted  in  a 
crown,  Mammy,  like  you  did  it  when  I  was  a  little 
girl.     Have  you  forgotten  how?  " 

"No  — I  hain't  fergit." 

"  Then  you  arrange  it  for  me,  and  I'll  wear  the 
daisies  in  it  that  you  brought  me.  Won't  that  be 
fetching?  I'll  sit  very  still,  Mammy,  while  you  fix 
it.  Do  you  remember,"  she  laughed  plaintively,  "  how 
I  used  to  wriggle  and  fidget  when  you  would  do  it 
that  way?" 


THE  HOUR  OF  THE  WEDDING    255 

Dicey  did  not  move  toward  her.  Shaking  her  head 
firmly  she  only  stared. 

"  I  won't  fix  hit  dat  way  fer  yer,"  she  suddenly 
burst  out.     "  I  won't !     I  won't !  " 

"  Why,  Mammy,  don't  you  think  it's  becom- 
ing?" 

"  I  won't  fix  hit  dat  way  'cause  he  alius  said  he 
lak  hit  dat  way." 

Natalia  looked  at  her  bewildered. 

"  But  Morgan  never  saw  me  wear  it  that  way. 
How  could  he  know  ?  " 

"  I  don'  mean  him.    I  means  Marse  Sargent." 

Natalia  broke  into  a  merry  laugh  and  drew  the  old 
woman's  face  down  to  her  own. 

"  You  dear  —  old  —  foolish  —  Mammy!  Of 
course  I  didn't  know  you  were  talking  about  Sargent 
Everett.  Besides  —  what  difference  does  he  make 
now?  I  believe  you  were  teasing  me  about  him,  any- 
how. If  he  thought  so  much  of  me  he  would  have 
come  to  my  wedding." 

Dicey  shook  her  head  unconvinced. 

"  Is  dat  all  de  larnin'  yer  done  pick  up  in  yer  trab- 
belin',  honey?  Hit's  'cause  he  lubs  yer  so  dat  he 
cyant  b'ar  seein'  yer  marryin'  anoder  man.  Dat's  hit, 
honey-chile." 

Natalia  narrowed  her  eyes  a  moment ;  then  smiled, 
a  little  wistfully. 

"  You  are  entirely  too  wise,  Mammy.  Sometimes 
I  almost  fear  you.  You  are  trying  to  make  me  un- 
happy on  my  wedding  night,  by  telling  me  my  happi- 
ness is  breaking  another's  heart.  You  know  it  isn't 
really  so  —  now  is  it,  Mammy?  " 

Dicey's  face  was  turned  away  from  Natalia  as  she 


256        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

moved  about  the  room,  pulling  down  the  shades  and 
lighting  the  candles.  Twice  she  opened  her  lips  to 
speak,  then  closed  them  tight  and  went  on.  Suddenly 
she  stopped  and  went  back  to  Natalia. 

"  Yer  is  breakin'  his  heart  —  yer  is  —  yer  is.  Yer 
tole  him  yer  wuz  gwine  come  back  ter  him  an'  yer 
ought  ter  done  hit.  Yer  know  yer  ought  to  —  cause 
yer  done  pledge  yerseli  ter  him."  Her  face  was  close 
to  Natalia's  as  she  whispered  the  words,  and  invol- 
untarily the  girl  drew  back,  startled.  The  intensity 
of  the  old  woman's  eyes  was  ominous.  The  next 
moment  Natalia  rose  from  her  chair  and  faced  her. 

"  Mammy,  you  are  trying  your  best  to  make  me 
miserable.  I  never  thought  it  of  you.  You  have  lost 
all  your  love  for  me  for  your  new  master.  Because 
you  love  him  so,  you  think  every  one  must  —  but  I 
do  not  —  do  you  hear,  Mammy  ?  I  don't  love  him  one 
bit  any  more ;  he  doesn't  love  me  either.  It's  all  your 
imagination!  And  if  you  don't  stop  talking  about 
him,  I'm  going  to  send  you  right  back  to  him !  " 

Natalia's  voice  was  calm,  but  her  eyes  flashed  into 
the  old  woman's,  speaking  her  anger.  In  another 
moment  Dicey  was  on  her  knees  with  her  arms  about 
her. 

"  Fergive  me !  honey-chile,  I  didn'  mean  nothin' !  " 
she  cried.  "  I  lubs  yer  more'n  ennybody  in  de  worl', 
but  I  cyant  help  er  feelin'  kinder  perturbed  'bout  pore 
Marse.  Yer  hain't  gwine  sen'  me  erway,  will  yer? 
Say  yer  won',  honey,  'cause  he'll  be  powerful  mad  wid 
me  ef  he  knows  I'se  done  made  yer  mad.  I'll  do  yer 
ha'r  anyway  yer  says  ef  yer'll  only  say  yer  hain't 
gwine  sen'  me  erway." 

Natalia's  anger  went  as  it  had  come.     The  next 


THE  HOUR  OF  THE  WEDDING    257 

moment  she  was  seated  before  the  mirror,  with  Dicey 
brushing  and  platting  her  hair. 

"  We  always  did  quarrel,  Mammy,"  she  laughed 
happily  again.  "  I  suppose  it  proves  our  love,  don't 
you?  But  it  does  make  me  so  jealous  to  find  you  lov- 
ing somebody  more  than  you  do  me,"  she  added,  re- 
flectively. "  It  really  is  odd  how  he  makes  people 
love  him,"  glancing  at  Dicey' s  enigmatic  face  reflected 
in  the  mirror.  "  I'm  talking  about  your  master, 
Mammy.  I  see  now  that  I  have  lost  your  love  en- 
tirely. But  if  he  does  for  others  as  he  has  done  for 
me,  I  do  not  wonder  at  it,"  she  sighed.  "  Who  else 
would  have  thought  of  sending  you  to  me  for  a  wed- 
ding present  ?  " 

"  Eberybody  do  lub  him,"  Dicey  rejoined,  her  eyes 
once  more  sparkling  with  her  enthusiasm  of  the  sub- 
ject. "  An'  de  young  ladies  —  yer  ought  ter  see  how 
dey  turns  out  in  dere  fine  kerridges,  all  rigged  up  in 
finery  and  foolishness,  when  he's  gwine  ter  speak. 
Dey  all  jes'  makes  sheep  eyes  at  him  all  de  time,  an' 
he  neber  takes  no  notice  ob  none  ob  dem." 

"  That's  your  way  of  seeing  him,  Mammy.  I'll 
wager  he's  in  love  with  half  a  dozen  girls  this  very 
minute.  Now  begin  putting  in  the  daisies,  please. 
Yes,  three  at  a  time.  Honestly,  now,  Mammy,  cross- 
ing your  heart  and  body,  you  don't  think  he  is  as 
handsome  as  Morgan,  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  neber  did  lak  bloo  eyes,"  Dicey  answered  firmly. 
"  'Specially  when  dey  is  light  bloo." 

"  But  his  are  not  light  blue.  They  are  very  dark 
and  beautiful.  Wait  until  you  see  him  close.  Now, 
my  wedding  dress,  Mammy.  Isn't  it  a  dream?" 
Natalia  went  to  the  sofa  where  the  wedding  finery 


258        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

was  displayed.  "  I  brought  it  all  the  way  from  Paris 
last  year.    You  see,  Mammy,  it  has  three  skirts." 

"  Lawdy  'bove  us !  "  cried  Dicey,  touching  the  gown 
gingerly.  "  Hit's  got  sho'  nuff  leabes  on  hit,  hain't 
hit?"   ' 

"  Yes,  they  are  arbour-vitae  leaves.  Millicent  has 
been  sewing  them  on,  all  day.  The  design  represents 
the  walls  of  Troy.  You  know  all  about  that,  don't 
you,  Mammy?"  she  laughed  merrily.  "  You  see 
there  is  a  border  on  each  flounce,  and  on  the  waist, 
too.  I  saw  the  Princess  Amelie  wear  one  just  like 
it.  Now  call  Millicent,  Mammy,  for  she  will  have 
to  help  me  get  into  it.  And  Aunt  Maria,  too,  and  ask 
Mrs.  Jervais  to  bring  the  jewel  box." 

Left  alone,  Natalia  peered  through  the  closed  blinds 
into  the  yard  below.  From  the  lights  and  moving 
figures,  she  turned  her  eyes  towards  the  heavens. 
There,  too,  the  stars  shone  in  a  gay  brilliance. 

"  My  wedding  night !  "  She  whispered  happily. 
"  My  wedding  night !  "  She  turned  away  from  the 
window  with  a  strange  new  excitement  rushing  over 
her.  Her  eyes  grew  deep  black,  glowing  with  in- 
tensity. Her  face  became  flushed  with  a  gorgeous 
colour. 

Millicent  burst  into  the  room,  completely  arrayed. 
"  How  do  I  look,  Natalia  ?  Do  you  like  the  ribbon 
here,  or  there?  It's  so  dreadfully  hard  to  decide. 
Would  you  believe  it  —  those  hateful  men  have  not 
come  yet!  I  don't  believe  this  ribbon  is  the  right 
colour,  after  all.  Do  you  suppose  anything  has  hap- 
pened to  them  ?  " 

Natalia  looked  quickly  towards  the  clock. 

"  It's  only  half  after  seven.     The  ceremony  is  at 


THE  HOUR  OF  THE  WEDDING    259 

eight,"  she  said  slowly  —  then  eagerly,  "  Perhaps  they 
have  come  and  you  didn't  know  it." 

"  No,  I  have  just  come  from  Morgan's  room,  and 
he  is  not  there.  But  you  must  dress,  Natalia,"  Milli- 
cent  urged,  picking  up  the  wedding  gown.  "  Here  — 
get  into  this,  while  I  help  you.  Aren't  you  glad  the 
leaves  look  fresh?  They  are  as  green  as  if  they  had 
just  been  picked.  Can't  you  see  the  girls  wondering 
if  they  are  real  ?  And  the  wedding  bouquet  —  it's 
wonderful!  Mrs.  Houston  has  just  been  telling  me 
how  it  was  made.  She  says  she  took  a  stick  and  cov- 
ered it  with  green  silk,  then  she  laid  sprays  of  cedar, 
fan  shape,  all  over  that,  then  in  the  centre  she  sewed 
the  cape  jessamines,  all  real  close  together.  It's  the 
most  beautiful  bouquet  I  ever  saw !  "  Millicent  ended 
breathlessly. 

Natalia  made  no  comment.  She  stood  silently 
docile  while  the  gown  was  fastened. 

"  It  is  very  strange  that  he  should  do  this  way," 
she  murmured  to  herself,  "  and  he  promised  me  — 
Perhaps  their  carriage  broke  down  on  the  way  out !  " 
she  exclaimed.     "  It  must  be  something  like  that !  " 

Mrs.  Jervais  entered  the  room,  her  face  beaming 
her  approval  upon  Natalia.  In  her  hand  she  carried 
a  large,  elaborately  carved  sandal  wood  box 

"  Do  you  know  where  they  are  ?  Have  you  heard 
from  them  ?  "  Natalia  cried,  rushing  towards  her. 

Mrs.  Jervais  answered  her  with  her  calm  smile. 

"  Don't  worry,  dear,  they  will  be  here  in  plenty  of 
time.  Nothing  has  happened,  I'm  sure.  If  you  knew 
Lemuel  as  I  do,  you'd  know  that  he  had  taken  them  all 
to  the  Mansion  House,  where  he  always  gets  involved 
in  those  eternal  political  discussions.    You  know  there 


260        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

is  much  talk  now  of  a  war  with  the  Cherokees  —  so 
they  are  trying  to  settle  it,  I  know.  But  here  are  the 
jewels,  Natalia.  They  have  not  been  opened  since 
your  mother's  death." 

Natalia  took  the  box  in  her  arms,  pressing  it  to  her 
affectionately. 

"  I  have  never  seen  them,"  she  said,  taking  a  key 
that  Judge  Houston  had  brought  her  that  day,  and 
slipping  it  into  the  lock.  "  I  always  said  I  would 
never  wear  them  until  I  was  married."  She  placed  the 
box  on  a  chair  and  knelt  down  before  it.  "  I  have 
always  thought,"  she  began,  very  softly,  "  that  there 
are  a  few  things  that  one  should  wear  very  seldom  — 
some  things  only  once.  I  am  never  going  to  wear 
this  dress  again."  She  laid  her  hand  softly  into  the 
folds  of  the  white  tarletan.  "  I'm  going  to  put  it 
away  in  the  cedar  chest  after  to-night  —  way  up  in 
the  attic  —  and  only  take  it  out  on  my  anniversaries, 
to  dream  over." 

She  turned  the  key  in  the  lock  and  lifted  the  lid. 
Lying  on  a  white  velvet  lining,  grown  yellow  with  age, 
was  a  magnificent  collection  of  jewels.  There  was  a 
necklace  formed  of  oblong  pearl  medallions,  the  cen- 
tre of  each  filled  by  a  large  sapphire ;  there  were  ear- 
rings of  the  same  design  which  would  hang  to  the 
wearer's  shoulder;  four  bracelets  completed  the  set. 
There  were  several  quaint  brooches  of  onyx  and 
pearls  and  diamonds,  and  some  heavy  pieces  of  white 
coral,  elaborately  carved. 

Mrs.  Houston  had  entered  while  Natalia  was  gazing 
into  the  case,  and  stood  just  behind  her,  one  hand 
resting  on  her  shoulder. 

"You  saw  her  wear  them,  Aunt  Maria,"  Natalia 


THE  HOUR  OF  THE  WEDDING    261 

murmured,  finally.  "  Then  place  them  on  me  just  as 
she  would  have  liked  them  to  be." 

Leading  her  up  to  the  cheval  glass,  the  old  lady 
clasped  the  necklace  about  her  throat,  slipped  the 
bracelets  far  up  her  arms,  and  adjusted  the  ear-rings 
to  her  minute  satisfaction;  leaving  for  the  last  the 
veil,  which  she  pinned  to  Natalia's  blue-black  hair 
with  a  broad  band  of  sapphires,  her  own  present  to 
the  bride,  and  one  that  had  done  duty  a  century  before, 
along  the  banks  of  the  James  River. 

"  Now  you  are  wonderfully  beautiful,  Natalia,"  she 
said,  giving  a  last  touch  and  stepping  away  to  gain 
a  better  view  of  the  arrangement.  "  Your  eyes  have 
caught  the  glow  of  the  sapphires.  Look  at  her,  Milli- 
cent !    Isn't  she  lovely  ?  " 

Any  one  who  now  sees  the  portrait  of  her,  painted 
by  Weygant,  will  realize  how  beautiful  she  must  have 
been  that  night;  for  the  artist  seems  to  have  caught, 
with  a  remarkable  inspiration,  the  gorgeous  depths 
of  her  eyes,  and  even  in  the  canvas  one  sees  the  faint, 
velvety  shadows  that  gradually  faded  away  from  her 
heavy  black  lashes.  This,  probably,  was  what  accen- 
tuated their  brilliancy  and  gave  the  effect  of  an  inner, 
glowing  light.  As  she  faced  the  others  and  felt  their 
admiration,  the  excitement  rushed  over  her  again,  and 
for  a  moment  she  was  dazzling. 

Dicey  was  the  first  to  turn  from  her  and  gaze 
towards  the  window. 

"  Do  you  see  them  coming,  Mammy  ? "  Natalia 
asked,  still  before  the  mirror. 

"  No,  ma'am,  dey's  all  done  quit  comin',"  came 
Dicey's  low  murmur. 

Natalia   turned    swiftly    towards    Mrs.    Houston, 


262        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

searching  her  face  for  some  sign  of  anxiety.  She 
found  none. 

"  You  all  go  downstairs  and  entertain  the  people," 
she  said  at  last.  "  Mammy  will  stay  here  with  me 
until  Morgan  comes." 

"  I  do  hope  they  will  come  soon,"  Millicent  said, 
kissing  Natalia  for  the  tenth  time.  "  I'm  terribly 
impatient  and  flustered,  and  I  always  get  so  red  in 
the  face  when  I  am  excited." 

"  It  will  not  be  long  now,"  Mrs.  Houston  said 
cheerfully,  "  I  sent  Felix  for  them  an  hour  ago,  and 
you  may  be  sure  he  will  find  them.  I'll  send  you  word, 
dear,  as  soon  as  I  see  them  coming." 

Left  alone  with  Dicey,  Natalia  turned  slowly  back 
to  the  mirror  and  looked  at  herself  a  long  time.  The 
veil  was  still  thrown  back  from  her  face,  and  in  the 
soft  glow  of  the  candles,  the  reflection  gained  a  vague, 
misty  charm. 

During  the  long  silence  the  sound  of  fiddling 
floated  up  to  the  room.  Surely  he  had  come  now! 
That  was  the  reason  for  the  music.  As  she  listened, 
the  music  faded  softly  and  finally  stopped  altogether. 
Still  there  was  no  sound  of  a  carriage  on  the  driveway. 
Finally  she  sank  into  a  chair  and  looked  at  Dicey, 
who  was  peering  intently  through  the  shutters.  Then 
she  glanced  at  the  clock.  It  was  exactly  eight  —  the 
marriage  hour.  The  fiddling  began  again,  and  min- 
gling with  it,  the  sounds  of  laughter  in  the  garden 
and  the  swishing  of  silks  along  the  veranda. 

She  rose  from  the  chair,  walking  about  the  room, 
while  the  clock  ticked  off  the  minutes  relentlessly.  In 
the  stillness  of  the  room  her  voice  sounded  harsh  and 
unnatural. 


THE  HOUR  OF  THE  WEDDING    263 

"  Mammy  —  do  you  see  him  coming  ?  " 

Dicey  did  not  answer  nor  move  from  her  position. 

"  Mammy  —  come  here !  " 

The  old  slave  held  up  her  hand  cautiously. 

"  Wait  —  I  sees  er  kerridge." 

Natalia  laughed  happily. 

"How  foolish  I've  been!  I  was  actually  getting 
nervous !  " 

"  Dey  is  drivin'  mighty  slow  —  sh-h  —  dar's  er  man 
lyin'  'cross  de  back  seat  —  sumthin's  done  happen." 

Natalia  rushed  toward  the  window  and  threw  the 
shutters  wide  apart.  In  the  glow  of  the  illuminations 
she  saw  the  occupants  of  the  carriage  distinctly. 
Judge  Houston  and  another  man  sat  on  the  front 
seat;  on  the  back  seat,  lying  outstretched,  was  a  limp 
figure,  the  face  covered  with  a  handkerchief. 

She  rushed  to  the  door  and  out  into  the  hall,  paus- 
ing half-way  down  the  steps  when  she  saw  the  men 
carrying  the  helpless  form  into  the  parlour.  She  stood 
there,  as  if  frozen  lifeless,  the  crowded  hall  unseen, 
the  curious  glances  of  the  guests  unnoticed.  Then, 
when  the  muffled  stillness  was  broken  by  a  shriek, 
she  moved  one  step  further.  It  was  Mrs.  Jervais' 
voice  that  had  resounded  through  the  crowded  house. 

It  was  then  that  Judge  Houston  came  out  of  the 
parlour  and  closed  the  door  after  him.  Signalling  the 
crowd  to  fall  back,  he  went  towards  the  steps.  Na- 
talia had  reached  him  now,  her  hands  clinging  to  him 
in  sudden  trembling. 

"  Is  it  Morgan  —  in  there?  " 

The  old  gentleman  shook  his  head,  and  looking 
down  into  Natalia's  pallid,  quivering  face  framed  by 
the  wedding  veil,  he  drew  her  close  to  him. 


264        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

"  No  —  it  is  Lemuel  Jervais." 

"  And  Morgan  —  where  is  he  ?  " 

Judge  Houston  did  not  reply  at  once.  Putting  his 
arm  about  Natalia,  and  motioning  away  the  staring 
crowd,  he  led  her  down  the  hall  to  a  deserted  place 
on  the  back  veranda,  where  the  wedding  supper  was 
already  on  the  table  and  the  candles  blazing. 

"  They  had  a  difficulty  over  cards  —  Morgan  and 
Jervais,"  the  old  gentleman  spoke  in  a  low  voice. 
"  When  I  got  there  Lemuel  was  —  dead.  If  I  could 
only  have  gotten  there  sooner!  "  he  ended,  his  whole 
figure  shaking  with  emotion. 

Natalia  leaned  heavily  against  the  wall. 

"  Where  is  Morgan  ?  "  she  finally  asked. 

"  There  was  only  one  place  for  him  to  go  to  —  the 
jail.  It  seems  to  have  been  a  very  bitter  fight,  —  the 
slavery  question  was  at  the  back  of  it,  —  you  know  the 
type  of  Jervais'  followers.  I  knew  the  jail  was  the 
only  safe  place  for  him  —  I  was  powerless  to  stem  the 
crowd." 

"  Is  he  safe  —  now?  " 

"  Yes." 

Suddenly  Natalia  tore  the  veil  from  her  head  and 
threw  it  away  from  her. 

"  Will  you  take  me  to  him,  Uncle  Felix  —  now  — 
at  once  ?  " 

The  old  gentleman  drew  back,  startled  by  her  vehe- 
mence. 

"  Not  to-night,  Natalia.    It  is  no  place  for  you." 

For  a  second  her  eyes  flashed  into  his. 

"If  he  is  in  danger  I  want  to  face  it  with  him! 
Will  you  go  with  me  ?    Or  shall  I  go  alone  ?  " 


CHAPTER    VIII 

ORANGE   BLOSSOMS   AND   PRISON    BARS 

The  fiddles  were  hushed.  The  sounds  of  gaiety 
and  laughter  died  on  the  lips  of  the  merry  throng. 
The  guests  rushed  for  their  wraps;  word  was  sent  to 
awaken  the  slaves  and  harness  the  horses  for  the  hasty 
departure;  everywhere  were  the  subdued  murmurs 
and  confusion  of  the  dismayed  gathering. 

Through  it  all  Judge  Houston  and  Natalia  went 
calmly  to  the  carriage,  the  startled  crowd  falling  back 
with  averted  faces,  letting  them  pass  in  silence. 

Natalia  sank  into  the  carriage,  exhausted  and 
trembling.  The  strain  of  the  last  hour,  with  its  cul- 
mination, had  brought  to  her  a  relinquishing  of  all 
restraint.  She  found  herself  clinging  to  Judge  Hous- 
ton's arm  as  if  in  some  way  the  mere  contact  with 
another  would  bring  back  her  usual  strength  and  com- 
posure. They  had  passed  into  the  highway  before 
either  of  them  spoke. 

"  Are  you  sure  that  he  is  safe  —  that  I  am  not  too 
late  ?  "     The  words  trembled  through  her  lips. 

"  I  am  positive  of  it,"  Judge  Houston  answered, 
forcing  his  words  to  speak  encouragement.  "  The 
jail  was  the  best  place  possible  to  take  him.  Indeed, 
it  was  the  only  safe  place.  You  know  the  reputation 
of  the  lower  element  of  this  town,  and  Lemuel  always 
had  a  strong  following  among  them.  He  has  often 
admitted  they  were  his  political  backing.     And  this 

265 


266        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

trouble  between  him  and  Morgan  was  what  made  me 
fear  some  sort  of  an  outbreak.  You  see  —  at  the 
bottom  of  it  all,  was  some  argument  about  slavery.'* 
The  old  man  drew  down  his  brows  thoughtfully.  "  It 
seems  to  be  developing  into  a  curse  upon  our  heads. 
God  knows  where  it  will  lead  us!  And  Morgan  was 
unwise  —  he  spoke  out  his  views  too  literally  —  his 
statements  aroused  ill-feeling  in  others,  so  that  his 
attitude  now  is  telling  against  him."  He  stopped  ab- 
ruptly and  pressed  Natalia's  hand.  "  I  tell  you  all 
this,"  he  continued  more  calmly,  "  to  show  you  why 
I  thought  the  jail  a  safe  place.  If  there  should  be  an 
unusual  excitement,  the  restlessness  of  the  mob  would 
be  quelled  by  the  State's  protection.  I  would  not  leave 
him,  even  to  come  to  you,  until  I  knew  he  was  per- 
fectly safe." 

A  light  wind  had  risen  with  the  night,  and  from  the 
south  there  came  a  sea  of  racing,  mackerel  clouds. 
The  night  was  intensely  dark.  Except  for  the  flicker 
of  the  carriage  lanterns  and  the  few  stars  that  shone 
through  the  breaks  in  the  clouds,  their  surroundings 
were  indistinguishable. 

"  I  can't  bear  the  thought  of  him  there,  surrounded 
by  enemies,  and  I,  out  here  —  safe  and  protected. 
Why  didn't  you  come  for  me  sooner,  Uncle  Felix !  " 
Natalia  cried.  "  Drive  faster,  Zebby !  Lash  the 
horses !  " 

Though  the  carriage  rocked  from  side  to  side,  and 
the  horses  were  galloping  at  their  utmost  speed,  urged 
on  by  the  singing  whip,  it  seemed  to  Natalia  they  were 
dragging  along  inch  by  inch. 

At  last  she  loosened  her  hold  of  Judge  Houston's 
arm  and  leaned  back  against  the  cushions. 


ORANGE    BLOSSOMS  267 

"  My  wedding  night !  "  she  murmured,  covering  her 
face  with  her  hands.     "  My  wedding  night !  " 

Finally  the  lights  of  the  town  twinkled  down  the 
road. 

"  Here  is  the  town,  Natalia,"  Judge  Houston  cried, 
putting  his  arm  across  her  shoulders  and  drawing  her 
to  him.  "  We  shall  be  there  in  a  few  minutes  now  and 
you  will  see  that  he  is  safe,  as  I  told  you." 

Zebediah  cracked  his  whip  incessantly,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  more  the  suburbs  had  been  passed  and  the 
street  lights  were  about  them.  The  town  seemed  ut- 
terly deserted,  a  quiet  gloom  hovering  over  the  dark- 
ened houses,  until  they  drew  near  the  Mansion  House 
Tavern.  Here  people  were  standing  in  excited  groups. 
A  block  beyond  the  street  was  a  seething  mass  of  men. 
Standing  on  the  fence  of  the  courthouse  yard,  a  rough, 
savage  faced  man  was  inciting  the  crowd,  gesticulat- 
ing wildly  to  make  himself  heard  above  the  noise. 
There  was  a  deep,  vibrating  murmur  rising  from  the 
crowd,  filling  the  air  with  a  foreboding  sound.  On  all 
sides  one  could  read  plainly  indignation  and  violent 
antagonism. 

Judge  Houston's  face  grew  pale  and  set  as  they 
drew  nearer  the  jail.  One  glance  at  the  crowd  had 
told  him  what  it  represented.  Already  the  mutterings 
of  that  great  trouble  which  was  a  few  years  later  to 
separate  a  united  country,  had  begun  to  spread;  into 
the  midst  of  these  people  had  come  a  man  from  the 
centre  of  the  opposition  country,  who  had  proclaimed 
his  beliefs  and  fought  for  them,  killing  his  opponent 
in  the  difficulty.  The  feeling  of  the  masses  centred 
against  this  stranger. 

The  old  gentleman  who  had  weathered  the  years  of 


268        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

pioneer  life  and  had  seen  the  deep-rooted  evil  widen- 
ing the  breach,  knew  that  Morgan  Talbot's  life  hung 
in  the  balance.  The  crowd  about  him  bespoke  its  in- 
gredients —  the  lower  elements  of  the  town,  inflamed 
by  the  followers  of  Jervais  into  a  recklessness  that 
meant  almost  anything.  He  also  realized  that  the  best 
element  —  the  friends  he  could  call  upon  to  defend 
Talbot  —  were  all  guests  at  the  wedding  and  had  not 
yet  returned  to  the  town. 

"  I  cyant  go  no  fudder,  Jedge." 

Zebediah's  whisper  broke  upon  Judge  Houston's 
great  fear.  He  stood  up  in  the  carriage  and  surveyed 
the  crowd.  It  was  dense  up  to  the  gate  of  the  jail 
yard.  In  that  moment  it  rushed  over  him  that  the 
sight  of  Natalia  might  have  some  effect  upon  the 
crowd.  He  glanced  at  her  quickly  and  saw  that  she 
was  determined  and  self-controlled. 

"  We  shall  have  to  walk  —  take  my  arm  —  now." 

Taking  one  of  the  lanterns  that  hung  to  the  dash- 
board of  the  carriage,  and  holding  it  in  his  hand  so 
that  the  light  fell  full  upon  Natalia,  showing  distinctly 
her  white  gown  and  jewels,  Judge  Houston  half  led, 
half  pushed  her  into  the  midst  of  the  crowd. 

The  effect  was  as  he  had  expected.  The  crowd 
turned  and  looked  at  them;  a  whispered  exclamation 
followed ;  then,  during  an  ominous  silence,  a  pathway 
was  made  for  them,  through  which  they  passed  to  the 
gate  of  the  jail  yard. 

There  the  keeper  laid  a  detaining  hand  on  Judge 
Houston's  arm.  "If  it  comes  to  the  worst  —  if  they 
make  a  rush,  we  are  powerless !  " 

"  Keep  them  back  until  our  friends  return  to  town." 

The  old  gentleman's  voice  rang  with  a  new  firm- 


ORANGE   BLOSSOMS  269 

ness.  "  They  all  know  and  are  coming  to  our  assist- 
ance. I  shall  be  back  here  in  a  minute  and  stand  by 
you." 

"  Is  it  as  bad  as  that  ?  "  Natalia  asked  so  quietly 
that  Judge  Houston  looked  searchingly  into  her  face. 
In  her  expression  he  saw  the  look  that  always  comes 
into  the  faces  of  the  brave. 

"  No,  I  don't  believe  they  will  do  anything  —  they 
wouldn't  dare!  They  are  not  so  violent  as  they 
look." 

At  the  end  of  the  walk  they  stood  at  last  before  the 
jail  door.  When  they  had  passed  within  and  Natalia 
heard  the  bolt  shoot  into  place,  and  knew  that  the 
threatening  crowd  without  was  separated  from  her 
by  the  heavy  iron  door,  she  leaned  against  it  for  re- 
newed strength.  Then,  taking  Judge  Houston's  out- 
stretched hand,  she  followed  him  down  the  dimly  lit 
corridor,  only  vaguely  aware  that  she  would  find  Mor- 
gan in  such  a  place.  Still  gripping  the  outstretched 
hand  she  followed  the  old  man  into  the  cell. 

Morgan  Talbot  and  Joel  were  outlined  against  the 
window.  From  without  came  the  subdued  murmur  of 
the  multitude  so  that  they  did  not  hear  the  door  open. 
Suddenly  Morgan  turned  and  faced  them.  Starting 
back,  he  looked  from  Natalia  to  Judge  Houston,  his 
eyes  bloodshot  and  staring. 

For  a  minute  no  one  spoke. 

"  Why  did  you  bring  her?  "  Morgan's  voice  came 
harshly.  "  Don't  you  know  what  that  crowd  out 
there  means  ?  You  could  have  spared  her  this  —  at 
least !  " 

He  motioned  to  the  window  where  Joel  still  leaned 
against  the  bars,  listening  intently.     There  was  no 


270        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

look  of  affection  as  he  glanced  from  Natalia  to  the  old 
man;   it  was  hardly  one  of  recognition. 

Natalia  moved  quickly  across  the  floor,  putting  both 
hands  upon  his  shoulders. 

"  He  brought  me  because  I  would  not  stay  away, 
Morgan.  Do  you  think  I  could  have  left  you  in  this 
awful  crowd  ? "  Her  voice  broke  and  she  began  to 
tremble  violently.  "  Morgan  —  what  did  you  do  ? 
How  did  it  happen  ?  " 

"  How  did  it  happen !  "  He  stared  down  into  her 
face,  his  hands  hanging  limp  at  his  sides,  his  voice 
hard  and  grating.  "  How  did  it  happen  ?  Don't  you 
know  ?    I  am  a  murderer !  " 

With  the  words  Natalia  shuddered  and  withdrew 
her  hands. 

"  No !  No !  don't  say  that !  Don't  use  that  word ! 
It  was  an  accident.     I  know  it  was  —  tell  me  so !  " 

Talbot  continued  to  stare  at  her  strangely.  When 
she  drew  away  from  him,  he  laughed  abruptly. 

"  I  knew  that  would  make  you  feel  differently,"  he 
said  almost  in  a  whisper,  as  if  to  himself.  "  I  knew  it 
would  kill  your  love  for  me,"  he  ended  with  a  sob. 

Natalia  lifted  her  head  proudly.  Instantly  her  hands 
were  clinging  to  him  again,  and  her  voice  as  she  spoke 
to  him  deepened  vibrantly. 

"Nothing  could  alter  my  love,  Morgan.  I  have 
come  here  to  convince  you  of  that.  Look  at  me !  Can't 
you  see  ?  " 

Judge  Houston  went  quietly  across  the  room,  and 
taking  Joel  by  the  arm,  led  him  to  the  door.  They 
went  out  noiselessly,  unnoticed  by  the  others.  "  Look 
here,  Joel,"  said  the  Judge  as  they  stood  in  the  corri- 
dor, "  I  want  you  to  realize  with  me  that  public  feeling 


ORANGE    BLOSSOMS  271 

will  probably  affect  the  verdict  of  the  coroner's  jury. 
We  have  a  big  battle  ahead  of  us."  The  young  fellow- 
shook  his  head  sadly. 

"  Don't  you  see,  Morgan  ?  "  Natalia  within  was  say- 
ing to  Morgan,  her  voice  rising  as  she  strove  to  force 
some  response  into  his  eyes.  "  Don't  you  see  I  am  in 
my  wedding  dress?  I  came  as  soon  as  Uncle  Felix 
told  me." 

He  stared  at  her  a  long  time,  the  wild,  hunted  look 
gradually  dying  out,  leaving  only  an  expression  of 
dumb  misery. 

"  Natalia !  Natalia !  "  he  murmured  at  last,  as  if 
realizing  for  the  first  time  that  it  was  she.  "  Na- 
talia —  that  is  your  wedding  dress !  Oh,  my  God !  " 
he  cried  out,  turning  away  from  her  and  leaning 
against  the  wall.  "  It  can  never  be  now  —  never  — 
never !  "  Then  came  the  dry,  hard  sobs  of  a  man 
who  sees  nothing  but  despair  before  him. 

Natalia  did  not  attempt  to  stop  him.  When  he 
sank  on  to  the  cot,  his  face  buried  in  his  hands,  she 
went  and  sat  beside  him,  her  eyes  dry  and  glowing. 
She  knew  a  more  soothing  relief  had  come  to  him 
than  any  words  she  might  employ. 

As  they  sat  there,  the  folds  of  her  wedding  dress 
falling  about  them,  the  candles  burned  low,  until  only 
a  ghostly  gleam  sparkled  upon  her  necklace  of  pearls 
and  sapphires. 

Gradually  the  low  murmuring  without  grew  fainter 
and  fainter,  then  died  away  entirely.  The  silence 
about  them  deepened;  yet  neither  of  them  moved. 
The  minutes  raced  along.  Once,  Natalia  rose  and 
lighted  another  candle,  the  first  one  having  burned 
into  its  socket. 


272        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

At  last,  when  Morgan  lifted  his  face  to  hers,  he 
found  its  beauty  and  quiet  encouragement  a  continu- 
ance of  the  peace  her  presence  had  brought  him. 

"Natalia,"  he  whispered,  "  you  love  me  still?  It 
has  made  no  difference  ?  " 

She  smiled  at  him  bravely. 

"  Nothing  could." 

"  Are  you  honest  with  me,  Natalia  —  or  is  it  only 
pity?" 

For  answer  she  leaned  forward  and  kissed  him. 

"  Then  it  is  true,"  he  said,  drawing  her  hand  into 
his,  his  face  brightening  for  a  second.  Then  again, 
crept  back  the  look  of  deep  misery.  "  I  believe  you 
still  love  me,  Natalia,  but  we  cannot  be  married  now. 
No,  I  wouldn't  ask  it  of  you.  I  love  you  too  dearly 
to  have  your  life  ruined  by  being  tied  to  a  murderer." 

"  Don't  use  that  word,  Morgan.  Please  don't  use 
it.  You  are  not  a  murderer.  It  was  all  an  accident. 
Am  I  not  right  ?  Tell  me  about  it  and  I  can  show  you 
with  your  own  words  that  I  am  right." 

Morgan  stretched  his  hands  out  on  the  cot,  his  fin- 
gers moving  nervously  in  an  incessant  thumping. 

"  We  spoke  of  it  that  morning  —  this  morning,"  he 
added.  "  It  seems  a  thousand  years  ago  now !  I  was 
telling  you  about  our  game  of  poker  at  the  tavern, 
don't  you  remember?  To-day  it  was  the  same  all 
over  again.  He  had  not  raised  the  money,  —  he  had 
only  brought  the  slaves  themselves  to  pay  his  gambling 
debts.  One  he  pointed  out,  as  worthy  to  pay  any 
man's  debts  —  a  mulatto  girl,  a  pitiful,  beautiful  little 
creature  that  wept  as  she  was  brought  before  us.  I 
told  Jervais  that  I  played  cards  with  gentlemen  for 
pleasure  and  not  for  traffic  in  human  souls !    I  told  him 


ORANGE    BLOSSOMS  273 

he  was  insulting  me."  He  stopped  a  moment  and 
shuddered.  "  It  all  happened  very  quickly.  He  struck 
me  a  blow  —  I  returned  it.  Then  I  saw  him  draw 
his  pistol  and  spring  on  me.  His  hands  were  about 
my  neck  when  I  had  gotten  the  pistol  out  of  his  grasp. 
As  they  tightened  I  knew  I  was  going  to  kill  him.  I 
can  feel  his  hands  loosening  now,  after  the  report. 
Great  God !  I  can  feel  him  slipping  down,  and  down, 
until  he  lay  dead  on  the  floor  before  me!  "  He  rose 
suddenly  from  the  cot  and  stretched  out  both  arms 
helplessly  before  him. 

Natalia  listened  intently.  Not  an  inflection  of  his 
voice  escaped  her.  When  he  finished  she  met  his  eyes 
resolutely. 

"  It  was  not  your  fault.  You  did  not  do  it  inten- 
tionally.    It  was  self  defence." 

"  But  I  knew  I  was  going  to  kill  him.  I  knew  it  all 
the  time." 

"  Yes,  but  you  had  to !  No  one  could  blame  you ! 
You  are  as  innocent  as  I!  The  law  will  protect 
you." 

Morgan  gazed  at  her  a  long  time  in  silence. 

"  Natalia,  —  help  me  to  do  what  is  right.  It  rests 
with  you  to  make  it  easier  for  me.  Don't  come  back 
here  any  more  after  to-night.  Don't  let  me  see  you 
again.     This  must  be  the  last  time,  dear." 

He  went  to  the  cot  where  she  still  sat  and  looked 
down  into  her  eyes. 

"  I  am  going  away  if  I  am  liberated,  and  I  am  never 
going  to  see  you  again.  It  is  the  only  way  I  can  prove 
my  love  to  you,  —  the  only  thing  that  would  be  just 
to  you." 

Natalia's  eyes  wavered  from  his  burning  glance. 


274        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

Suddenly  she  rose  and  went  to  the  door,  her  face 
illumined  by  a  wonderful  smile. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Natalia,"  Morgan  ex- 
claimed. 

She  did  not  answer.  Knocking  on  the  door  until 
it  was  opened,  she  faced  Judge  Houston  and  Joel 
calmly. 

"  Uncle  Felix,  I  wish  our  marriage  to  be  performed 
to-night.     Will  you  send  for  a  minister?" 

Judge  Houston  looked  at  her,  startled,  then  his  eyes 
sought  Talbot's  for  an  explanation.  Coming  back 
again  to  Natalia's,  he  saw  the  decision  was  hers. 

"  Would  it  not  be  better  to  wait  until  to-morrow?  " 
he  suggested,  quickly  aware  of  incongruity  in  such  a 
marriage. 

"  No,  it  is  not  a  time  for  waiting.  I  must  prove  to 
Morgan  that  this  has  made  no  difference  in  my  love 
for  him." 

Finally  the  old  gentleman  turned  away  from  her, 
reading  the  force  in  her  face  that  brooked  no  interfer- 
ence. When  he  was  at  the  door  he  heard  Morgan 
speaking. 

"  Stop!  "  he  commanded.  "  I  refuse  to  be  married 
to-night.     Natalia  does  not  know  what  she  is  doing." 

"  You  both  see  I  am  perfectly  calm,"  she  said,  turn- 
ing to  Joel  and  Judge  Houston.  "  I  desire  above 
everything  that  we  shall  be  married  to-night.  I  beg 
of  you  —  Morgan  —  " 

Morgan  shook  his  head  with  a  determination  that 
was  greater  than  hers.  With  the  decision  his  face 
gained  some  of  its  lost  brilliancy.  He  became  once 
more  the  handsome,  virile  man  of  that  morning. 

"  When  I  am  a  free  man,  Natalia  —  when  I  am 


ORANGE   BLOSSOMS  275 

cleared  —  if  you  still  wish  it  then  —  not  before.  I 
am  determined." 

The  four  of  them  were  silent  for  a  few  moments. 
So  much  was  at  stake  at  that  moment  that  each  one 
felt  the  trembling  of  the  future  within  his  hands.  At 
last  Judge  Houston  stepped  forward  and  wrung  Mor- 
gan's hand. 

"  You  are  right,  Morgan,"  he  said,  with  his  eyes 
bent  admiringly  upon  the  young  man.  "  You  are  a 
brave  fellow."  Then  he  turned  to  Natalia.  "  Every- 
thing outside  is  quiet.  The  danger  has  subsided  and 
I  think  it  is  time  we  were  going  back  home." 

"  Must  I  go  ?  "  Natalia  started,  and  turned  swiftly 
back  to  Morgan.  "  Had  we  not  better  stay  longer  ?  I 
don't  want  to  leave  you,  Morgan." 

Judge  Houston  went  towards  the  door.  Holding 
his  watch  in  his  hand,  he  looked  at  it  intently  for 
several  minutes. 

"  It  is  after  two  o'clock."  He  finally  turned  to 
Natalia  and  drew  her  away  with  him.  "  It  will  be 
better  for  Morgan  to  rest,  and  you,  too.  We  should 
only  excite  him  by  staying  longer.  Take  my  advice, 
Natalia." 

"  Yes,  go,"  Morgan  urged,  smiling  bravely  as  she 
drew  back  at  the  door  and  looked  appealingly  to  him. 
"  I  am  all  right  now.  See  how  quiet  I  am !  It  was 
brave  of  you  to  come,  Natalia.  God  bless  you  both !  " 
he  ended  with  a  break  in  his  voice. 

"  We  shall  come  back  in  the  morning,"  Judge  Hous- 
ton said,  attempting  a  cheerful  tone.  "  Try  to  get 
a  little  sleep,  and  don't  think  too  much  about  it. 
Joel  —  you  make  him  rest.  Everything  will  come  out 
all  right  in  the  end  —  take  my  word  for  it." 


276         THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

Natalia  broke  from  his  hold,  and  ran  back  to  Mor- 
gan, clinging  to  him  as  if  it  were  their  last  parting. 

"  I  shall  not  sleep,"  she  whispered,  her  head  buried 
on  his  shoulder.  "  I  shall  be  thinking  of  you  all  the 
time  —  thinking  of  you  and  praying  for  you.  And 
early  in  the  morning  I  am  coming  ba'ck." 

A  moment  more  and  the  iron  door  had  been 
slammed  and  bolted  between  them. 

Outside  the  night  had  grown  cool.  Gusts  of  wind 
blew  through  the  trees,  ominously ;  across  the  sky  the 
clouds  drifted  in  restless,  ever-changing  forms. 

Natalia  was  silent  as  she  went  out  to  the  carriage, 
raising  her  eyes  only  once  to  glance  furtively  at  the 
deserted  street.  Everything  was  strangely  still  now. 
No  one  was  in  sight,  where  a  short  while  before  was 
a  murmuring  throng. 

The  old  man  sitting  beside  her  in  the  carriage  could 
find  no  words  to  break  the  silence  of  the  long  drive 
home.  Only  by  the  affectionate  pressure  of  his  hand 
did  Natalia  know  that  his  thoughts  were  continually 
of  her. 

A  single  light  was  burning  in  the  hall  when  the 
carriage  stopped  before  the  house.  The  veranda  and 
grove  were  deserted,  the  illuminations  of  the  garden 
had  been  extinguished,  and  just  beginning  to  show 
in  the  fitful  light  of  the  late  moon  were  the  ghostly 
blossoms  of  the  magnolias. 

Mrs.  Houston  and  Millicent  came  to  the  door  at 
the  sound  of  the  carriage,  meeting  them  before  they 
had  entered  the  house. 

"Is  he  safe?"  Millicent  cried. 

"  Yes,  he  is  safe,"  Natalia  answered,  dully.     Then 


ORANGE    BLOSSOMS  277 

turning  to  Mrs.  Houston,  she  asked,  "  Where  is 
she?" 

The  old  lady  looked  towards  the  door. 

"  She  is  in  there,"  nodding  in  the  direction  of  the 
parlour.  "  She  has  not  left  his  side  since  they  placed 
him  there.     She  would  let  no  one  stay  with  her." 

Natalia  hesitated,  as  she  entered  the  hall,  and  stood 
irresolutely  before  the  closed  door. 

"  I  must  say  something  to  her.  It  is  only  right. 
Yet  — "  she  clasped  her  hands  helplessly,  searching 
the  faces  before  her  as  if  for  some  assistance. 
"  Yet  —  what  can  I  say?  " 

Standing  there  helplessly,  she  did  not  hear  the  par- 
lour door  open,  nor  see  Mrs.  Jervais  motionlessly  look- 
ing at  her.  Her  face  was  not  tear-stained.  Only  in 
her  eyes  did  the  others  read  a  grief  which  had  already 
crystallized  into  a  brilliant  hardness,  emanating  from 
her  like  the  diamond  cross  that  sparkled  on  her  breast. 
She  did  not  move  from  her  position  in  the  doorway, 
all  the  time  gazing  at  Natalia  with  a  concentrated  ex- 
pression that  gathered  intensity  as  she  waited. 

Suddenly  Natalia  turned  and  saw  her.  Holding  out 
her  arms  impetuously  she  made  a  step  towards  her  — 
then  stopped.     The  other  woman's  face  repelled  her. 

"What  can  I  say  —  what  can  I  tell  you?"  Natalia 
murmured.  "  You  must  know  how  I  feel  for  you  — 
how  I  suffer  with  you." 

Mrs.  Jervais'  eyes  seemed  to  be  burning  into  the 
girl  before  her. 

"  Suffer !  What  do  you  know  of  that  ?  Why  should 
you  suffer?  You  have  not  lost  the  one  you  love  — 
yet."  She  stopped  abruptly,  lending  a  sharp  accent 
to  the  last  word. 


278        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

Natalia  drew  back.  The  implied  suggestion  seemed 
to  scream  at  her  from  the  woman's  blazing  eyes. 

"  If  it  were  not  for  you  he  would  still  be  here." 
Mrs.  Jervais  made  a  step  nearer.  "  You  asked  me  to 
come  here  and  do  this  for  you.  I  did,  and  what  has 
it  brought  me  —  death !  It  is  accursed  —  this  place 
of  your  ancestors.  So  were  they  —  all  of  them! 
When  they  lived  here  it  brought  them  nothing  but 
death.  It  drove  your  mother  to  madness.  And 
now  — "  her  voice  in  its  calmness  grew  even  more 
sinister,  "  it  will  bring  its  curse  upon  you.  Do  you 
think  a  murderer  could  bring  you  any  happiness?  " 

Natalia  shrank  back  from  her,  reaching  out  for  the 
steadying  hand  of  Judge  Houston. 

"  Mrs.  Jervais,"  he  expostulated  gently,  "  Natalia 
is  suffering,  too.  You  forget  that  in  your  own  grief. 
Have  you  no  kind  words  for  her?" 

"  It  is  no  time  for  kind  words,  Felix  Houston.  It 
is  only  bitterness  and  hatred  that  I  have  now !  Why 
should  I  feel  kindly  towards  a  woman  who  has  brought 
a  man  here  that  he  might  kill  my  husband?  When 
she  has  lost  as  I  have,  then  I  shall  be  kind,  perhaps! 
And  it  will  not  be  long  that  she  will  wait !  I  shall  not 
leave  a  stone  unturned  to  punish  with  death  the  one 
who  caused  it." 

She  turned  abruptly  back  into  the  room  and  closed 
the  door.  In  the  intense  stillness  of  the  house  the  key 
grated  harshly  in  the  lock,  as  she  turned  it.  Without 
a  word  Mrs.  Houston  put  her  arm  around  Natalia 
and  led  her  toward  the  stairs.  When  she  stood  on 
the  steps  Natalia  turned  and  faced  them. 

"  Don't  any  of  you  come  with  me,"  she  said  faintly. 
"  I  must  be  alone.    No,  Millicent,  not  to-night.    I  only 


ORANGE    BLOSSOMS  279 

want  to  be  alone  now."  And  turning  from  them,  she 
walked  slowly  up  the  stairs,  clinging  to  the  rail  to 
steady  herself  while  the  others  stood  silently  watching 
her. 

Opening  the  door,  the  flickering  light  of  a  candle 
burned  far  into  its  socket  greeted  her.  At  first  she 
stopped  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  her  hands  clasped 
vise-like,  while  the  excitement  and  strain  gradually 
dropped  away  from  her,  leaving  only  a  wave  of  utter 
weariness.  She  sank  into  a  chair  near  the  massive, 
four-post  bed,  gazing  listlessly  at  her  wedding  veil 
and  bouquet  of  gardenias  which  lay  carelessly  upon 
the  sheets  where  they  had  been  thrown.  Vaguely  she 
felt  their  significance;  in  a  way  they  represented  her 
wedding  day  —  the  day  that  had  dawned  so  brilliantly, 
and  was  now  only  a  crumpled,  withered  memory. 

A  rasping  pain  shot  through  her,  and  leaning  for- 
ward she  pressed  both  hands  to  her  temples.  Was  this 
the  real  side  of  life  that  had  come  to  her  at  last?  Was 
this  what  she  had  so  yearned  for  —  a  grappling  with 
things  that  counted  ?  Ah,  no,  it  could  not  be  that,  for 
this  was  only  despair  and  horror.  Suddenly  she  shiv- 
ered violently  with  the  thought  that  perhaps  she  was 
no  better  fitted  to  combat  it  than  her  mother  had 
been. 

A  weird,  ghostly  light  on  her  bride's  veil  drew  her 
back  once  more  to  her  surroundings.  Looking  up  she 
saw  the  pale  outline  of  the  window  against  the  dark 
room.  With  the  realization  that  another  day  was 
dawning,  there  rushed  over  her  for  the  first  time,  in 
its  full  meaning,  the  horrifying  thought  that  her  lover 
had  killed  a  man.  Hitherto  the  excitement  had  kept 
her  from  any  analysis  of  her  own  emotions  —  every- 


280        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

thing  had  been  swept  aside  in  the  thought  of  Morgan. 
But  now,  facing  her  pitilessly,  was  the  awful  necessity 
of  introspection,  of  seeing  the  situation  from  her  view- 
point, of  being  honest  with  herself.  Would  it  make 
any  difference  to  her?  A  feeling  of  self-hate  swept 
over  her  that  she  should  consider  herself  in  the  least. 
Yet,  fight  against  it  as  she  would,  the  question  insist- 
ently remained.  But  there  would  be  time  enough  for 
all  such  thoughts  after  the  trial.  The  trial!  Mrs. 
Jervais'  words  rang  in  her  ears  again.  She  started  at 
the  thought.  Would  Morgan  be  cleared?  Was  there 
any  doubt  ?  The  horror  of  her  fancies  choked  her  and 
she  rose  from  her  chair  as  if  seeking  something  that 
moment,  that  would  aid  her. 

As  she  turned  towards  the  window,  her  eyes  fell 
upon  Dicey,  sitting  upright  in  a  chair  against  the  wall, 
her  hands  clasped  in  her  lap,  her  eyes  staring  straight 
into  her  own.  The  old  slave  had  kept  the  vigil  with 
her  mistress. 

Dicey  rose  and  made  towards  her. 

"  Will  yer  go  ter  bed,  now,  honey  ?  "  Her  voice 
was  very  low,  caressing  and  gentle.  "  Hit'll  soon  be 
day  and  yer  ought  ter  tak  er  lil  res'." 

"  Rest !  I  can't,  Mammy.  I  must  do  something  to 
help  him.  He  is  to  be  tried  for  murder!  He  must 
be  saved.  Oh,  Mammy,"  her  voice  broke  with  a  sob. 
"What  can  I  do?" 

She  went  to  the  window  and  raised  it,  letting  the 
chill  breeze  of  the  daybreak  blow  upon  her  face  and 
neck.  All  the  world  in  its  dreary  greyness  spoke  to 
her  only  of  despair  and  death.  Finally  she  felt  Dicey's 
arm  about  her,  gently  drawing  her  back  from  the 
window.     The  strange  look  of  visions  was  alive  in 


ORANGE    BLOSSOMS  281 

the  old  slave's  eyes  once  more,  more  burning  and  in- 
tense than  ever. 

"  Yer  kin  sabe  him,  honey-chile,  easy  'miff,"  she 
whispered.  "  All  yer  got  ter  do  is  ter  sen'  word  to 
Marse  Sargent  ter  cum  an'  'fend  him." 

A  weary  smile  flitted  across  Natalia's  lips  as  she 
thought  of  the  old  woman's  love  for  her  master.  Then 
her  face  grew  serious  again. 

"  I'll  do  anything,  Mammy.  But  he  is  not  here. 
Where  can  I  find  him  ?  " 

"  Yer  jes'  write  de  letter  an'  I'll  make  Jonas  —  dat's 
his  body-servant  —  fetch  hit  ter  him.  I  knows  whar 
his  wharbouts  is.  I'se  been  er  keepin'  up  wid  him 
for  fo'  days.  Yer  writes  de  letter  an'  he'll  git  hit  ter 
him." 

Natalia  stared  at  her  a  moment,  then  going  quickly 
to  her  desk,  pulled  out  her  portfolio.  When  the  paper 
was  spread  before  her  she  paused,  thoughtfully. 

"  How  strange,"  she  said  half  aloud.  "  I  remember 
it  so  distinctly  now.  He  told  me  if  I  ever  needed 
him  —  "  her  lips  curved  into  the  smile  of  the  little 
girl,  and  the  tears  fell  fast  upon  the  sheet  of  paper. 

Before  the  address  was  dry,  Dicey  was  flying  with 
it  towards  the  town. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE   HONOURABLE   SARGENT    EVERETT 

In  a  little  village,  far  off  in  the  eastern  part  of  the 
State,  a  great  crowd  was  assembling.  The  planters 
and  their  wives  and  children,  every  one  from  the  ad- 
joining counties,  were  going  into  the  village  that 
morning.  Some  rode  horses;  others  mules;  some 
were  in  crude  wagons  without  springs;  others  in  old 
coaches  no  longer  fit  for  regular  service;  and  many 
on  foot  —  all  of  them  followed  by  their  favourite 
slaves.  It  was  to  be  a  great  day  in  the  lives  of  these 
simple  country  folk.  Tidings  had  gone  forth  that  the 
great  lawyer  was  to  speak  to  them  that  day,  telling 
them  all  about  their  rights;  explaining  to  them  the 
mysteries  of  their  great  Constitution,  and  the  impor- 
tance of  proper  representation.  Every  man  felt  it  his 
special  duty  to  hear  what  was  going  to  be  said,  and 
although  this  celebrated  lawyer  was  not  of  their  polit- 
ical beliefs,  being  a  Whig  while  the  county  was  Demo- 
cratic, they  were  glad  of  the  opportunity  to  hear  a 
man  speak,  whose  name  was  becoming  a  byword 
throughout  the  State.  Though  un-lettered,  hard- 
fisted,  woodland  patriots  caring  little  for  the  outside 
world  except  in  what  would  bring  them  absolute  free- 
dom, they  were  still  keenly  alive  to  the  needs  and  laws 
that  would  open  their  great  forests  to  the  civilized 
world. 

282 


HON.    SARGENT    EVERETT       283 

And  while  the  sun  rose  higher  and  the  brilliance  of 
the  June  morning  deepened,  and  the  crowd  grew 
larger  and  more  impatient,  the  man  who  had  caused 
all  this  interest  sat  in  the  cool  shade  of  a  veranda, 
looking  steadily  out  before  him  through  deeply  brood- 
ing eyes. 

It  was  a  beautiful  scene  of  wide,  luxuriant  cotton 
fields,  stretching  out  before  him.  Nearby,  a  garden 
of  luxuriant  flowers,  guarded  by  smoothly  clipped  box 
hedges,  filled  the  air  with  a  delicious  fragrance. 

Beside  him  on  the  veranda,  comfortably  lounging 
in  a  spacious  rocking  chair,  sat  his  host,  Colonel  Pick- 
ram;  a  portly  old  gentleman,  bluff  and  hearty,  and 
red  of  face.  Beyond,  through  the  open  window,  came 
the  laughter  and  gay  chatter  of  the  two  daughters  of 
the  house,  healthy,  comely  girls  who  moved  about  the 
room,  giving  directions  for  what  was  to  be  a  sumptu- 
ous dinner. 

Colonel  Pickram  gazed  at  his  guest  under  question- 
ing brows.  The  great  lawyer  was  not  to-day  as  he 
had  known  him  before.  The  virility  and  life  seemed 
to  have  lessened  in  him  since  the  last  visit;  he  was 
no  longer  the  sparkling  conversationalist  he  had  known 
before;  the  winning  humour  that  had  drawn  every 
one  to  him  was  gone.  As  he  sat  there  silent,  his  hands 
clasped  on  his  knees,  his  eyes  full  of  a  sad  expression 
of  yearning,  even  the  dull  perception  of  the  self-satis- 
fied farmer  was  aware  that  he  was  not  himself. 

"  Mr.  Everett,"  Colonel  Pickram  broke  the  long 
silence,  "  you've  been  working  too  hard  on  the  cam- 
paign. It's  telling  on  you.  I  reckon  you're  mighty 
glad  to-morrow's  the  last  day." 

Everett  looked  up  abstractedly. 


2M        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

"  Yes  —  I'm  glad  to-morrow  sees  the  end  of  this 
trip  —  and  yet,"  he  drew  himself  together  respon- 
sively,  "  it  has  been  a  wonderful  experience.  When- 
ever I  get  nearer  to  the  people  and  begin  to  like  them 
all  the  more  after  I  know  them,  and  find  them  liking 
me  —  I  feel  that  I  have  accomplished  so  much  more 
than  merely  winning  their  votes.  That  is  what  I  love 
in  this  work  —  the  winning  of  friends.  And  then, 
Colonel,"  he  glanced  almost  affectionately  at  his  sur- 
roundings, "  being  in  a  home  like  this  always  gives 
me  such  pleasant  memories  to  carry  away  with  me. 
Still,  it  makes  me  very  homesick  at  times."  His  voice 
lowered  again  and  the  sadness  crept  back  into  his  eyes. 
"  It  takes  me  back  to  my  old  home  days.  I'd  give 
almost  anything  to  be  back  there  to-day.  But  this 
ambition !  "  He  sighed,  a  half  humourous,  half  sor- 
rowful expression  twisting  his  lips.  "  It  is  wonderful 
what  it  will  make  us  give  up." 

The  Colonel  crossed  one  leg  deliberately  over  the 
other,  blowing  a  long  line  of  smoke  between  them. 

"  Well,  sir,  I've  often  wondered  if  the  game  of 
politics  was  worth  the  candle.  Here  I  am,  with  my 
two  fine  lassies,  as  good  girls  as  you'll  ever  find  in  any 
country,  and  a  plain  home,  but  it's  comfortable  enough, 
and  plenty  of  slaves  and  mules  to  make  a  crop  and 
pay  my  bills.  It's  all  I  want  and  I'm  right  happy  — 
just  as  contented  as  if  I  owned  the  world.  But  then  — 
I'm  old  and  you're  young.  I  look  back  and  you  look 
forward.    That's  what  makes  the  difference,  I  reckon." 

"  But  you  are  right,  Colonel,  and  I  am  wrong.  All 
a  fellow  works  for  in  this  life  is  a  happy  home;  and 
it  seems  I'm  never  going  to  have  that  —  at  least  the 
kind  I  mean,  the  complete  one.     It  gets  further  and 


HON.    SARGENT    EVERETT       285 

further  away  as  I  get  older.  I  used  to  say  that  when 
I  was  thirty  I  would  have  all  those  I  loved  about  me. 
Look  at  me  now !  "  He  spread  out  his  hands  futilely. 
"  I'm  nearly  thirty,  living  alone,  a  bachelor,  and  many 
times,  for  all  my  gay  spirits  and  friends,  terribly 
lonely." 

"You  ought  to  get  married.  Why  don't  you? 
There  are  plenty  of  nice  girls  everywhere." 

Everett  winced  and  turned  abruptly  away.  When 
he  spoke  again  his  face  was  towards  the  cotton  fields. 
"  But  they  don't  want  a  cripple  for  a  husband,"  he 
answered  the  old  man's  remark.  "  They  want  a  man 
of  fine  proportions,  who  will  do  them  credit  when  they 
are  seen  together.  They  want  one  who  —  "  he  nar- 
rowed his  eyes  a  moment,  and  in  them  came  the  ten- 
derness of  bygone  days,  "  —  who  will  go  to  church 
with  them,  and  send  them  beautiful  nosegays  and  take 
them  to  dances."  He  ended,  smiling  upon  the  Colo- 
nel's surprised  countenance.  "  I  once  heard  a  woman 
say,  Colonel,"  he  began  again,  more  seriously,  "  that 
she  chose  her  husband  because  he  looked  well  in  a 
ball-room.  And  I  don't  blame  her  —  perfection  and 
beauty  are  the  greatest  factors  in  our  lives." 

The  old  Colonel  smiled  over  his  pipe. 

"  I'm  afraid,  Mr.  Everett,  that  you  are  a  much 
better  lawyer  than  a  judge  of  the  ladies.  I  have  a 
higher  opinion  of  them  than  you  have.  They  are  not 
half  so  silly  as  you  paint  them." 

"  You  misunderstand  me,  Colonel,"  Everett  an- 
swered hurriedly.  "  I  revere  them  more  than  any 
man.  But  they  love  the  beautiful  in  life,  and  they  are 
beautiful  themselves.  My  bitterness  comes  only  from 
my  inability  to  give  them  what  they  demand." 


280        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

Colonel  Pickram  grunted  sarcastically. 

"  You  can  give  them  a  good  deal,  I  think.  I'd  like 
to  see  the  woman  who  wouldn't  be  satisfied  to  be  a 
Congressman's  wife  and  spend  her  winters  in  Wash- 
ington. The  trouble  with  you,  Mr.  Everett,  and  you'll 
pardon  me  for  saying  it,  is  that  you've  never  been  in 
love." 

Sargent  rose  from  his  chair  almost  abruptly.  Walk- 
ing to  the  end  of  the  veranda  and  back  again,  he 
faced  Colonel  Pickram,  smiling  down  into  the  rough 
old  fellow's  face  as  if  he  were  much  his  elder. 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,  Colonel,"  he  said,  taking 
out  his  watch.  "  Time's  up,  however,  so  we  had  better 
drop  dreaming  and  be  on  our  way  to  grapple  with 
politics." 

Squaring  his  shoulders  and  throwing  back  his  head, 
a  gesture  of  his  earlier  days  that  clung  to  him  still, 
Sargent  threw  off  the  melancholy  of  the  past  day,  and 
became  once  more  the  man  who  charmed  people  by  the 
thousands.  Colonel  Pickram  noticed  the  quick  change 
and  pondered  over  it.  "  Big  men  were  curious  crea- 
tures," he  reflected.  "  They  could  jump  from  one 
mood  into  another  just  as  easily  as  a  travelling  magi- 
cian he  saw  last  week,  could  change  a  rabbit  into  a 
pocket  handkerchief." 

As  they  passed  across  the  meadow,  towards  the  vil- 
lage, the  signal  of  their  approach  was  given.  The 
multitude  left  their  lunches,  and  hurried  towards  the 
platform  from  which  the  speech  was  to  be  made. 

Every  one's  neck  was  craned  to  catch  the  first 
glimpse  of  the  two  men  as  they  approached.  One 
they  knew  well,  though  in  his  linen  waistcoat  and 
Sunday  stock  —  which  had  already  wellnigh  brought 


HON.    SARGENT    EVERETT       287 

on  an  attack  of  apoplexy  —  Colonel  Pickram  did  not 
look  familiar.  They  noticed  the  slow  and  pompous 
dignity  with  which  he  moved  beside  the  stranger,  and 
felt  instinctively  that  he  considered  this  the  proudest 
day  of  his  life.  The  man  beside  him  walked  with  the 
aid  of  a  cane  and  dragged  one  foot  slightly  after  him. 
The  crowd  stared.  Was  it  possible  that  this  unob- 
trusive young  man,  in  a  black  coat  and  chimney-pot 
hat,  could  be  the  one  they  had  heard  so  much  about? 
They  looked  at  him  curiously,  drawn  unconsciously  by 
his  kindly  dark  eyes,  and  the  winning  smile  upon  his 
handsome  face.  But  he  did  not  represent  to  them  a 
political  champion.  Some  mistake  had  been  made. 
They  were  evidently  the  dupes  of  some  jest  that  had 
been  played  upon  them. 

While  they  speculated  over  the  matter,  Colonel 
Pickram  led  the  young  man  to  a  place  before  the  plat- 
form where  the  crowd  pressed  closest.  Here  a  few 
introductions  were  made,  after  which  the  word  went 
over  the  gathering,  that  the  small,  limping  man  was 
really  Sargent  Everett. 

As  they  waited,  he  climbed  the  steps  of  the  platform 
and  looked  down  into  the  crowd  of  faces.  With  the 
removal  of  his  hat,  his  aspect  changed  suddenly.  He 
looked  taller,  the  high  polished  forehead  lent  a  dignity 
and  breadth  to  his  whole  physique.  The  enthusiasm 
and  intellect  that  always  glowed  in  his  eyes  when  he 
faced  an  audience  gave  out  sparks  of  magnetism  that 
quieted  the  waiting  throng  into  an  inspiring  audience. 

During  the  ensuing  moments  of  waiting  it  seemed 
to  them  that  the  warmth  and  friendliness  of  his  glance 
was  shed  upon  each  one  of  them  individually.  When 
his  lips  parted  and  his  opening  words  came  forth  — 


288        THE    LEAD    OF*  HONOUR 

"Fellow  Citizens!  By  the  Father  of  Waters  I 
have  used  this  greeting;  on  the  banks  of  the  great 
Ohio  I  have  spoken  it;  here  I  say  it  again,  and  many 
hundreds  of  miles  east  of  us,  west  of  us,  north  of  us, 
I  can  still  employ  these  words  and  thrill  with  the 
knowledge   that   before   me   are  — '  My   fellow   citi- 


—  the  crowd  fell  under  the  spell  of  the  man's  electri- 
fying talent  and  listened  with  bated  breath. 

Seeing  him  then  one  would  have  said  that  he  was 
the  same  as  when  he  had  made  that  wonderful  speech 
that  convicted  the  highwayman ;  the  one  who  had  led 
so  forcibly  in  the  Legislature  when  the  State's  new 
Constitution  was  formulated;  who  had  thrilled  many 
audiences  in  New  Orleans;  who  had  made  his  name 
sound  far  into  the  North  when  he  had  conducted  a 
famous  trial  in  Kentucky.  And  he  had  been  the  same, 
years  making  no  change  except  to  deepen  and  intensify 
his  genius,  until  a  few  months  before,  when,  almost 
indescribably,  yet  vividly  discernible  to  his  intimates, 
a  difference  had  come.  The  world  did  not  know ;  he 
was  still  lighthearted  and  buoyant  to  it;  but  to  those 
who  loved  him  best  when  alone  with  him,  there  was  a 
strange  loss  of  youth  in  his  countenance,  an  abstrac- 
tion, almost  a  lessening  of  that  spontaneous  sympathy 
which  was  such  a  potent  ingredient  of  his  charm.  But 
in  his  public  life  there  was  no  difference.  Standing 
before  a  crowd,  and  meeting  its  warm,  inspiring 
glances,  any  thought  of  personal  effort  was  lost.  He 
became  a  wonderful  machine  which  throbbed  and  pul- 
sated with  the  dynamic  force  of  a  great  mind. 

So  it  was  that  day  before  the  gathering  in  the  little 


HON.    SARGENT    EVERETT       289 

village.  Though  before  his  speech  he  had  sunk  deep 
into  a  valley  of  shadows  and  knew  well  it  would  be 
the  same  again  when  the  excitement  had  died  out, 
now  that  he  was  facing  them,  he  was  only  aware  of 
the  powerful  influence  that  always  made  him  charm 
his  audience. 

He  made  only  a  few  gestures  as  he  spoke,  and  even 
then,  the  expression  of  his  face  and  the  movement  of 
his  hands  were  perfectly  attuned  to  the  subject.  There 
was  nothing  theatrical;  one  saw  and  understood  the 
general  effect  only.  There  was  no  time  for  any  criti- 
cism or  thought.  The  words  came  in  a  constant 
flowing  sound  and  through  them  the  magnetism  of 
the  man  glowed,  reaching  each  listener  with  an  irre- 
sistible force  that  drew  him  with  a  surrendering  of 
beliefs,  of  convictions,  of  desires,  often  even  against 
his  personal  wish.  His  face,  illumined  by  the  inward 
fire  of  his  imagination,  grew  steadily  in  beauty  and 
nobility,  until  it  became  fascinating  with  the  brilliance 
of  the  thoughts  reflected  through  it.  His  well  moulded 
features,  showing  clear-cut  and  perfect  in  the  ivory 
whiteness  which  had  recently  come  to  them,  drew  even 
those  who  did  not  understand  the  wonderful  flow  of 
words ;  indeed,  in  all  his  speeches  this  look  of  idealism 
was  ever  uppermost  —  an  expression  which  none  of 
the  portrait  painters  of  his  day  were  able  to  reproduce. 

When  he  realized  that  the  attention  of  the  audience 
was  his,  he  paused.  Then,  with  renewed  energy,  he 
plunged  deeper  into  his  subject,  and  was  reaching  the 
height  to  which  his  forensic  talent  swept  him,  when 
an  incident  on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd  caught  his 
attention.  Some  one  had  just  ridden  up  on  a  horse 
and  was  trying  to  force  his  way  through  the  crowd. 


290        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

Evidently  there  was  resistance  on  the  part  of  the  lis- 
teners and  voices  were  raised  in  protest  against  the 
newcomer's  insistence.  Then,  several  men  pushed 
aside  and  made  a  path  for  the  man,  and  Sargent  saw 
a  negro  making  his  way  slowly  through  the  crowd 
towards  him.  As  he  drew  nearer  he  recognized  Jonas. 
Climbing  up  the  ladder  to  the  platform  the  negro  did 
not  hesitate  one  moment  until  he  had  thrust  a  letter 
into  Sargent's  hand. 

Sargent  stopped  in  the  midst  of  the  speech  and 
looked  at  Jonas,  half  frowning,  half  smiling  at  the 
negro's  temerity  in  reaching  him  through  the  crowd. 

"  Marse  Sargent,  please  sah,  read  dat  lettah  — 
right  now,  sah!  Hit's  a  mattah  ob  life  an'  death, 
sah ! " 

Sargent  turned  back  to  his  audience,  smiling. 

"  One  moment,  please,"  he  said,  laughing  down  into 
the  sea  of  upturned  expectant  faces,  "  I  think  my  op- 
ponents have  put  up  some  joke  on  me.  I  want  to  read 
it  to  you  and  then  we  can  laugh  over  it  together." 
Then  he  tore  open  the  letter  indifferently. 

"  Lawdy,  I  sho  wuz  glad  ter  heah  yer  voice,  Marse 
Sargent.  I'se  been  er  gwine  ober  dis  heah  kentry  fer 
three  days  er  sarchin'  fer  yer.  Ole  Dicey  tole  me  fer 
ter  git  out  on  de  road  an'  fin'  yer  an', ter  gib  yer  dis 
heah  lettah.  She  done  said  hit  wuz  a  mattah  ob  life 
an'  death,"  Jonas  ended  panting,  looking  around  on 
the  crowd  and  grinning  with  the  success  of  his  quest. 

Sargent  did  not  hear  his  words.  At  the  first  glance 
at  the  handwriting  he  had  started.  While  he  read  the 
crowd  waited  breathlessly.  When  he  had  finished  he 
turned  to  Colonel  Pickram,  his  face  flushed  deeply,  his 
words  coming  with  a  rush. 


HON.    SARGENT    EVERETT       291 

"  Colonel  Pickram,  I  want  your  fastest  horse.  I 
must  be  in  Natchez  by  Sunday." 

"  Of  course  you  can  have  anything  I've  got.  Has 
anything  happened?  " 

"  Yes  —  a  great  deal  —  for  me." 

Colonel  Pickram  noted  the  strangely  flushed  face 
and  was  more  deeply  puzzled  than  ever. 

"  You  forget  to-morrow  at  Canton.  You  are  going 
to  meet  your  opponent  there.  It  is  the  deciding  day. 
You  can't  afford  to  miss  that !    It's  your  big  chance !  " 

Everett  shook  his  head  smiling.  When  he  answered 
his  eyes  were  full  of  the  expression  of  a  man  who  is 
drunk  with  joy. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  my  chance  lies  in  Natchez  next 
week  —  the  great  chance  of  my  life!" 

Colonel  Pickram  looked  at  him  amazed.  Had  the 
man  lost  his  mind ! 

"  But  the  people  here !  Your  speech !  They  are 
waiting  for  you  to  finish  it !  " 

Sargent  had  already  picked  up  his  hat  and  cane. 

"  Tell  them  I  am  ill  —  that  I  cannot  go  on.  Tell 
them  anything,  Colonel,  I  don't  care  what.  I  can't 
say  anything  more.  I  haven't  a  moment  to  lose. 
Good-bye  to  all  of  you ! " 


CHAPTER    X 

THE   LEAD   OF    HONOUR 

On  and  on  through  the  country  Sargent  urged  his 
horse,  followed  closely  by  the  faithful  Jonas.  They 
had  stopped  only  for  a  change  of  horses  and  for  food, 
taking  no  rest  until  at  the  end  of  the  second  day  he 
realized  that  his  wild  impatience  must  be  curbed  or 
the  end  of  the  journey  would  find  him  exhausted. 

But  the  night's  rest  had  brought  him  no  peace; 
the  physical  relaxation  seemed  to  intensify  the  mental 
excitement.  The  few  moments  of  sleep  were  but  agi- 
tated, lurid  dreams.  He  would  awaken  from  them 
startled,  with  cold  sweat  upon  his  face  and  hands  and 
the  two  words  ringing  in  his  ears  that  had  come 
to  him  with  Natalia's  letter  —  "  My  chance !  My 
chance ! " 

Early  the  next  morning  he  resumed  the  journey, 
no  calmer  in  the  knowledge  that  before  sunset  he 
would  reach  his  destination. 

The  forest  rang  with  the  two  words  all  through 
the  hot  day ;  in  the  early  morning  the  mists  hovering 
over  the  cotton  fields  whispered  them  to  him;  the 
gallop  of  his  horse  beat  them  into  a  rhythmic  insist- 
ence. It  was  a  throbbing,  joyful  sound,  singing  in 
his  ears,  glowing  in  his  face,  crystallizing  in  his  eyes. 
It  was  the  intervention  of  Fate,  smiling  upon  him, 
and  telling  him  that  his  opportunity  had  come  at  last ; 


THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR         293 

that  it  was  the  moment  when  the  dreams  and  inspira- 
tion of  his  youth  would  become  a  reality.  The  last 
months  of  hopelessness,  when  he  had  felt  that  the 
loss  of  his  ideal,  the  goal  of  all  his  plans,  had  slipped 
from  him,  were  forgotten  in  the  thrilling  thought  that 
all  hope  was  not  gone.  One  more  chance  was  left; 
already  he  felt  it  to  be  the  forerunner  of  happiness. 

Always  a  man  who  lost  himself  in  the  grip  of  one 
idea,  he  could  see  nothing  else  but  that  Natalia  was 
not  yet  married.  The  fact  that  the  marriage  was 
postponed  because  her  lover,  his  old  schoolmate,  had 
killed  Lemuel  Jervais,  was  all  a  vague  background 
to  the  other  great  certainty.  The  outcome  did  not 
intrude  itself  upon  the  theme  that  sounded  so  steadily 
in  his  ears.  Nothing  else  counted  until  he  could  reach 
her  side  and  pour  out  all  the  pent-up  yearnings  of  the 
years  and  years  that  he  had  planned  and  builded  and 
waited  for  her. 

When  Natalia  had  gone  away  a  little  girl,  leaving 
behind  her  the  fragrance  of  her  charm,  the  lingering 
notes  of  her  sweet  dependence,  Sargent  had  treasured 
her  memory  within  his  heart,  keeping  it  alive  and  more 
vividly  before  him  by  its  very  secrecy.  Only  two  knew 
that  beneath  the  success  of  the  young  lawyer  there 
was  a  strong,  true  hope  that  was  leading  him  on 
towards  a  future  his  dreams  made  perfect.  What 
difference  did  it  make  to  him  when  her  letters  dwin- 
dled and  finally  ceased?  That  was  only  natural  in  a 
girl  developing  into  womanhood.  Of  course  she 
would  forget  for  a  while;  that  in  itself  would  make 
the  memories  and  devotions  of  her  childhood  all  the 
stronger  when  she  came  back  to  them.  When  the  let- 
ters to  him  had  stopped  coming  and  only  occasionally 


294        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

Mrs.  Houston  had  received  one,  it  was  always  a  great 
day  to  them.  The  old  lady  would  send  for  Sargent, 
and  reading  aloud  to  him  what  Natalia  had  written, 
they  would  end  by  planning  for  the  wonderful  time 
when  she  would  be  coming  back  to  them.  Then,  at 
last  had  come  the  letter  concerning  her  marriage. 
Mrs.  Houston  had  not  hesitated  when  she  realized 
the  duty  that  lay  before  her,  but  in  the  choosing  of 
time  and  place,  there  was  a  subtle  sympathy  and  gen- 
tleness that  expressed  her  nature  completely.  She 
had  driven  to  Sargent's  home  in  the  late  afternoon 
and  sending  word  for  him  to  drive  with  her,  had 
gradually  broached  the  subject,  ending  by  reading  the 
letter.  They  had  driven  home  in  silence  amid  the 
gathering  shadows,  her  hand  on  his,  neither  meeting 
the  other's  saddened  eyes.  Afterwards  had  come  the 
work  of  the  campaign,  into  which  Sargent  threw  him- 
self as  never  before,  seeking  vainly,  through  physical 
and  mental  fatigue,  forgetfulness.  Then,  when  his 
intelligence,  his  humour,  and  his  bitter  disappoint- 
ment were  struggling  in  a  great  fight  to  build  up  his 
life  as  it  had  been  before,  Natalia's  message  came  to 
him.  Beside  her,  he  could  tell  her  of  what  the  years 
without  her,  yet  so  completely  filled  with  her,  had 
meant  to  him.  She  would  listen,  he  kept  repeating 
over  and  over  to  himself;  he  would  make  her  listen, 
she  would  be  powerless  to  combat  his  great  love;  it 
was  of  such  force  that  obstacles  would  be  swept 
before  it  as  by  a  storm.  In  the  delirious  happiness 
of  this  obsession  there  was  left  no  room  for  sane 
thoughts. 

Towards   evening  he   rode  into  the  town.      The 
church  bells  were  ringing  their  call  to  the  evening 


THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR        295 

services,  for  it  was  Sunday.  The  air  was  filled  with 
the  last  glow  of  liquid,  golden  sunlight;  over  all 
Nature  was  spread  the  luxurious,  lazy  warmth  of 
summer. 

Sargent  did  not  spare  his  weary  horse  as  he  entered 
the  town ;  even  then  his  impatience  seemed  to  become 
greater  with  his  destination  reached.  Riding  directly 
to  Judge  Houston's  house,  for  he  was  not  certain  but 
that  he  might  find  her  with  them,  he  threw  his  reins 
to  Jonas  and  dismounted.  Walking  toward  the  house, 
his  habitual  halting  step  grown  more  perceptible  in 
his  exhaustion,  he  suddenly  realized  the  strain  he  had 
forced  himself  to  undergo.  Yet,  in  his  face  still 
glowed  the  beauty  of  his  hope.  Fatigue  and  utter 
weariness  were  powerless  to  affect  its  potency. 

The  servant  told  him  that  Judge  Houston  was  just 
preparing  to  drive  back  to  the  country;  that  he  had 
been  in  town  all  day.  Sargent  found  him  in  the  gar- 
den back  of  the  house,  his  head  bent  forward  in  deep 
thought.  With  the  quick  straightening  of  his  body 
and  the  bright  light  in  his  eyes  when  he  looked  up, 
Sargent  knew  that  his  coming  had  brought  a  great 
relief. 

"  I  am  glad  they  found  you,  Sargent,"  he  ex- 
claimed. "  Natalia  told  me  she  had  written  you.  We 
need  you,  boy  —  we  need  all  the  help  we  can  get." 

Sargent  held  the  old  man's  hand  while  he  searched 
his  eyes. 

"  Where  is  she  now  ?  "  he  almost  whispered. 

"  Natalia  ?  At  her  home.  Maria  and  I  are  staying 
out  there  with  her." 

Judge  Houston  drew  his  hand  away  slowly,  his 
brows  wrinkling  into  an  expression  of  bewilderment 


296         THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

as  he  noted  more  closely  the  flushed  face  before  him. 
Suddenly  he  put  out  his  hand  and  motioned  Sargent 
to  sit  on  the  bench  beside  him.  His  voice  trembled 
slightly  when  he  spoke. 

"  Do  you  know  what  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  she  wrote  me  —  and  asked  me  to  come 
and  save  Morgan !  " 

"  Do  you  know  what  she  meant  ?  " 

Sargent  glanced  up.  The  old  man's  hand  was 
shaking  as  it  rested  on  his  shoulder,  and  in  his 
eyes  there  had  come  quickly  an  expression  of  sharp 
pain. 

"  Do  you  know  what  she  meant  ?  "  he  repeated,  al- 
most harshly. 

"  Yes,  of  course  —  but  why  —  " 

Sargent's  voice  failed  him.  His  old  friend  had 
read  his  hope  and  in  his  face  now  was  speaking  the 
suffering  that  he  knew  was  coming.  In  the  moment 
of  silence  Sargent  faced  the  old  man  squarely. 

"  You  mean  —  "  he  said,  his  voice  cold  and  hard. 
Already  his  happiness  of  the  past  two  days  was  steal- 
ing away  from  him. 

"  She  loves  Morgan  Talbot  with  her  whole  intense 
nature.  If  he  is  not  saved  I  fear  almost  anything. 
You  know  her  mother's  end?  It  is  your  chance, 
Sargent  —  " 

"  My  chance !  "  Sargent  stood  up,  repeating  the 
words  that  had  rung  in  his  ears  for  so  many  hours, 
though  now  the  accent  spoke  of  dead  hope.  Still 
saying  them  over  to  himself  as  if  seeking  for  some 
hidden  meaning  in  the  mere  sound  of  the  words,  he 
left  Judge  Houston  and  walked  to  the  far  end  of  the 
garden. 


THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR         297 

The  old  gentleman  followed  him,  finally  standing 
beside  him  when  he  leaned  on  the  fence. 

After  a  long  silence,  his  glance  still  riveted  on  the 
ground  before  him,  Sargent  spoke : 

"  Are  you  quite  sure?"  he  murmured.  "There 
might  be  some  mistake  —  yet." 

Judge  Houston  moved  nearer  him,  his  whole  face 
showing  his  surprise.  It  was  a  phase  of  Sargent's 
character  that  he  had  not  seen  before. 

"  I  was  not  certain  until  I  carried  her  to  the  jail 
to  see  Morgan,"  he  said  slowly.  "  That  night  I  knew 
he  meant  everything  to  her.  It  was  a  silly  dream  of 
ours  ever  to  hope  for  anything  else.  As  well  as  we 
knew  her,  we  should  have  been  sure  of  her  love  for 
the  man  she  would  marry.  Why  did  you,  of  all  of 
us,  hope  for  any  change  ?  " 

Sargent  lifted  his  face  with  a  quivering  flash  of 
anger. 

"  Why  did  I  hope?  Why  did  I  think  my  chance 
had  come?  "  he  burst  out  with  vehemence.  "  Are  you 
so  old  that  the  meaning  of  love  and  all  its  joy  have 
been  forgotten?  Do  you  think  that  because  I  have 
sunk  all  desires  and  cravings  into  my  ambition,  that 
covered  up  in  my  heart  was  no  passion?  I  am  only 
a  human  being  —  with  all  the  pent-up  yearnings  for 
what  I  see  others  possessing.  Why  should  I  not  use 
my  opportunity  now  that  it  has  come  to  me?  I  will, 
Great  God,  I  will!  Don't  stop  me!  I'm  going  to 
her  to  plead  my  cause,  to  lay  my  love  before  her. 
She  will  not  refuse  it  —  she  shall  not.  There  is 
a  time  in  every  man's  life  when  he  must  forget 
everything  but  himself!  I  am  going  to  do  that 
now ! " 


298        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

Judge  Houston  did  not  interrupt  him.  When  the 
wild  flow  of  words  had  ceased  he  remained  quietly 
beside  Sargent,  giving  no  sign  that  he  had  heard  what 
was  said. 

"  You  think  I  am  insane,  I  suppose,"  Sargent 
rushed  on,  even  more  intensely  than  before.  "  You 
think  because  I  speak  out  the  great  desire  of  my  heart 
—  because  at  last  the  blood  is  boiling  in  my  veins, 
making  me  like  other  people,  like  all  the  creatures 
God  has  made  to  claim  their  rights  —  you  think  be- 
cause of  all  this,"  his  voice  broke  shrilly,  "  that  I  am 
not  the  man  you  thought  I  was.  Is  it  not  so  ?  "  He 
turned  and  faced  Judge  Houston,  grasping  both  his 
arms.  "  You  are  disappointed,  distressed,  terribly 
shaken  in  me  —  answer  me?  I  want  to  hear  you 
speak  ?  " 

The  old  gentleman's  eyes  beamed  into  Sargent's. 

"  My  faith  in  you  is  shaken  —  not  one  jot!  "  His 
words  came  crisp  and  full  of  a  deep  significance.  "  I 
know  you  too  well.  I  love  you  as  I  would  have  loved 
my  son.  My  confidence  in  you  is  without  limit.  I 
know  what  you  will  do  as  surely  as  if  I  were  going 
to  do  it  myself !  " 

Their  eyes  burned  into  each  other :  then  over  them, 
enveloping  them,  came  the  silence  of  a  miracle.  Sar- 
gent's hands  fell  to  his  side.  His  body  shook  for  a 
second  like  a  man  who  was  in  the  grip  of  a  chill; 
then,  as  he  gradually  grew  steady,  a  great  calmness 
swept  over  him;  his  face  grew  white  and  set,  and 
from  his  eyes  shone  out  the  look  that  the  wise  old 
man  beside  him  knew  would  come  —  the  expression 
of  one  who  has  been  tempted,  and  is  feeling  at  last 
the  infinite  glory  of  renunciation. 


THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR         299 

"  How  did  you  know?  "  Sargent  asked  at  last  with 
a  broken  sob. 

The  old  gentleman  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"  The  other  side  was  not  you,  Sargent.  It  was  a 
dream  —  a  horrible  dream." 

Sargent  put  his  hands  to  his  forehead,  pushing  back 
his  hair  and  showing  the  ivory  whiteness  of  his  brow. 
His  face,  illumined  by  the  miraculous  thought  that 
had  come  in  one  minute,  grew  steadily  in  beauty  until 
it  became  almost  glorified  in  its  brilliance. 

In  that  instant  the  meaning  of  his  whole  life  came 
to  him.  His  early  training,  the  teachings  of  his 
mother,  and  later  his  first  great  experience  in  his 
chosen  profession,  when  it  seemed  that  all  sides  were 
narrowing  about  him  in  his  great  failure  and  despair. 
In  Phelps  he  realized  the  beacon  light  that  started 
him  towards  the  goal.  It  was  through  him  that  the 
conviction  had  come  to  him  to  make  his  life-work  a 
defence  of  men  who  had  taken  the  wrong  road.  Now, 
with  a  thrilling  sense  of  seeing  deep  into  the  mystery 
of  life,  he  realized  that  every  little  detail  had  been  a 
preparation  for  what  was  coming.  Even  his  recent 
temptation  was  a  strengthening  of  his  forces.  And 
from  it  all  he  lifted  his  head  with  the  transcendence 
of  the  knowledge  was  to  come  the  flowering  of  his 
life. 

He  stretched  out  both  hands  to  Judge  Houston. 

"  Thank  God !  "  he  murmured,  "  my  dear,  dear 
friend.  It  was  left  to  you  to  stand  by  me  and  show 
me  the  way/'  He  wrung  the  old  gentleman's  hands, 
then  turned  resolutely,  with  the  upward  lift  of  his 
head  that  was  more  eloquent  than  ever  before.  "  Now 
let  us  go  to  Morgan.    My  work  begins  there  first." 


300        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

Judge  Houston  slipped  his  arm  through  Sargent's 
as  they  strolled  back  to  the  house. 

"  And  afterwards  —  to  Natalia.  She  needs  you, 
too.,, 

"  No  —  not  yet,"  Sargent  answered,  the  glow  of 
the  great  thought  burning  deeply  in  his  eyes.  "  Later 
—  when  I  have  shown  her  what  my  love  can  do ; 
then  —  perhaps  —  but  not  before !  " 


CHAPTER    XI 

A   ROAD   TO    HAPPINESS 

The  Judge's  surmise  as  to  the  verdict  of  the  cor- 
oner's jury  had  proved  to  be  true.  It  had  seemed  wise, 
therefore,  to  proceed  quickly  with  the  trial  in  order 
to  avoid  inflaming  the  already  excited  sentiment  of 
Jervais'  adherents.  Now  the  first  day  of  the  trial 
was  ending.  Natalia  stood  on  the  veranda  wait- 
ing for  Judge  Houston;  he  was  to  take  her  to  see 
Morgan. 

The  approaching  evening  brought  to  her  strange, 
restless  thoughts;  an  overwhelming  rush  of  emotions 
which  had  so  filled  her  for  the  last  four  days.  She 
felt,  as  she  stood  alone,  with  all  the  old,  familiar  sur- 
roundings about  her,  that  she  was  being  pushed  re- 
lentlessly on  towards  a  situation  which,  for  some 
unknown  reason,  she  dreaded.  A  change  had  come 
over  her;  already  she  felt  the  great  influence  of  the 
tragedy  upon  her  life.  It  had  opened  the  more  serious 
side  of  her  nature,  unchaining  characteristics  which 
had  been  felt  only  vaguely  heretofore.  The  very 
depths  of  sympathy  seemed  to  have  stirred  within  her; 
a  closer  relationship  to  those  about  her  made  her 
realize  that  before  she  had  viewed  the  world  through 
the  eyes  of  a  happy  egoism.  Now  she  was  an  integral 
part  of  life,  bearing  her  burden  as  the  endless  thou- 
sands had  done  before  her.    With  this  realization  had 

301 


302        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

come  a  feeling  of  strength,  of  capacity,  of  endurance ; 
and  a  determination  to  make  the  ties  which  had  bound 
her  and  Morgan  more  full  of  meaning  and  purpose. 

Breaking  through  this  comforting  purpose  came, 
at  moments,  a  strange  restlessness.  It  always  forced 
itself  upon  her  after  her  visits  to  Morgan.  After  the 
first  night  in  the  jail,  she  had  gone  to  him  every  day, 
spending  several  hours  in  the  little  white-washed  room 
where  the  iron  bars  across  the  window  kept  their 
surroundings  palpably  before  them.  She  had  hoped 
that  after  the  first  night  of  suffering  and  despondency 
Morgan  would  gradually  drift  back  into  the  buoyancy 
which  had  seemed  always  such  an  integral  part  of 
his  nature.  She  had  expected  that  to  help  him 
towards  a  more  hopeful  outlook.  But  it  was  quite 
the  other  way.  The  weight  of  the  crime  had  fallen 
with  a  crushing  blow  upon  the  man  who  had  known 
nothing  but  a  care-free  life  during  his  thirty  years. 
The  courage  in  his  eyes  had  died  out ;  there  were  deep 
circles  beneath  them ;  even  his  brilliant  colouring  had 
faded  into  a  lifeless  pallor.  To  one  whose  life  had 
been  so  far  removed  from  tragedy  as  Morgan's,  the 
blow  brought  a  lessening  of  all  energies.  The  full 
realization  that  he  had  killed  a  man  came  to  him  with 
such  a  shock  that  he  shrank  from  it  like  a  child,  cowed 
and  irremediably  injured. 

Natalia  had  at  first  felt  her  whole  being  go  out 
to  him  in  sympathy  and  love ;  when  she  saw  him  each 
morning  seeking  her  eyes  so  like  some  pitiful, 
wounded  animal,  she  began  to  wonder  if  he  could 
be  the  same  man  she  had  known  before.  Disappoint- 
ment followed  pity,  and  afterwards  self-hate  that  she 
should  have  expected  him  to  be  unchanged  by  this 


A    ROAD    TO    HAPPINESS         303 

experience.  It  was  then  that  the  full  conception  of 
the  great  moral  outcome  of  the  tragedy  came  to  her. 
She  knew  in  a  moment  of  flashing  intuition,  that  her 
happiness  and  Morgan's  lay  in  her  hands  alone.  All 
the  courts  of  the  world,  with  their  justice  and  gifts 
of  liberty,  could  not  do  for  him  what  she  must  do. 
But  could  she  do  it?  The  question  left  her  cold  and 
trembling. 

All  during  the  week  she  had  gone  bravely  through 
the  ordeal  that  confronted  her.  Mrs.  Jervais  had  left 
the  morning  after  the  day  set  for  the  wedding,  having 
refused  to  see  Natalia,  and  leaving  behind  her  a  re- 
quest that  they  should  not  meet  again.  Then  had 
come  the  greatest  trial  of  all,  when,  looking  out  of 
the  window,  Natalia  saw  the  funeral  procession  pass 
through  the  grove  where  still  lingered  some  of  the 
decorations  for  her  wedding. 

Always  beside  her,  through  these  dismal  days, 
Dicey  stood;  encouraging  and  comforting  in  her  ten- 
derness. Each  evening  the  old  slave  would  leave 
Natalia  for  a  little  while,  going  through  the  big  gate 
and  out  to  the  highway,  where  she  stood  and  watched 
for  the  long-expected  messenger.  When  at  last  Jonas 
had  ridden  out  to  impart  to  her  his  successful  mission, 
Dicey  had  spoken  no  word  of  approval,  but  turning 
swiftly,  had  rushed  back  to  the  house  and  into  Na- 
talia's room  with  wildly  illumined  face. 

"  He's  cum,  honey !  "  she  cried.  "  He  done  cum 
at  las'.  Now  hit's  gwine  be  all  right.  Eberything's 
done  been  sabed.', 

And  later  that  evening  Judge  Houston  sent  word 
to  them  that  Sargent  had  come  and  that  he  would 
stay  in  town  with  him  that  night. 


304        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

When  Judge  Houston  came  for  her,  Natalia  took 
her  place  in  the  carriage  beside  him,  her  lips  silent,  her 
eyes  seeking  his  for  some  outcome  of  the  first  day's 
trial.  As  they  passed  out  of  the  gate  into  the  deserted 
road,  the  old  gentleman  put  his  arm  about  her  and 
drew  her  head  down  on  his  shoulder. 

"  We  haven't  long  to  wait  now,  little  girl,"  he  said, 
his  words  gaining  a  benignity  in  their  tenderness. 
"  Everything  is  going  as  we  wish  it  now.  Sargent 
is  at  the  helm,"  he  ended,  his  voice  full  of  calm  cer- 
tainty. 

"  He  came  in  answer  to  my  letter?"  Natalia  mur- 
mured. 

"  Yes  —  he  got  it  in  the  midst  of  one  of  his 
speeches." 

"  He  left  his  campaign  for  me?  " 

The  old  gentleman  nodded. 

"  For  you  —  and  for  Morgan." 

Natalia  lifted  her  head,  suddenly. 

"  Uncle  Felix,"  she  cried,  "  will  it  mean  a  loss  to 
him?    Did  he  let  his  chance  go  for —  for  us?  " 

"  I  hope  it  will  not  be  that  way."  Judge  Houston 
looked  away  from  her  questioning  eyes.  "  There  was 
only  one  more  speech.  It  was  the  one  in  which  he 
was  to  meet  his  opponent.  But  that  was  nothing  to 
him,  Natalia.  If  you  knew  him  as  I  do,  you  would 
realize  that  nothing  counts  with  him  when  a  friend 
calls  for  help." 

Natalia  clasped  her  hands,  helplessly.  When  she 
spoke  again  her  lips  were  trembling. 

"  I  know,  Uncle  Felix,  I  know  that.  But  I  have 
no  right  to  call  him  back  from  his  work.  If  this 
should  cause  him  to  lose  his  election  to  Congress,  it 


A    ROAD    TO    HAPPINESS         305 

would  be  upon  my  hands.  I  have  no  right  to  wreck 
people's  lives  as  I  am  doing.  Already  Mrs.  Jervais' 
words  are  sinking  heavily  upon  me  —  I  can't  forget 
them.  Uncle  Felix,  what  does  it  mean?  Why  has 
all  this  come  to  me  ?  Is  my  race  accursed  —  as  she 
said  ?  "  She  shrank  closer  to  him,  her  hands  seeking 
his  for  comfort.  "  It  seems  to  me  that  I  pray  every 
moment.  My  lips  are  moving  always  in  supplication. 
And  yet  —  "  her  expression  changed  to  one  of  intense 
fear  —  "  I  wonder  sometimes  if  I  know  what  I  am 
praying  for." 

He  looked  down  at  her,  puzzled  at  this  sudden 
shrinking,  his  eyes  seeking  hers  in  explanation. 

"  I  know  you  don't  understand,"  she  began  again, 
in  answer  to  his  look.  "  I  am  not  myself.  Perhaps 
it  has  been  too  much  for  me  to  stand.  But  I  dread 
something,  Uncle  Felix,  something  that  is  coming. 
I  don't  seem  to  have  the  strength  for  the  duty  that 
lies  before  me.  It  is  not  so  much  the  outcome  of  the 
trial,"  she  continued,  calmer,  "  as  what  will  come 
afterwards." 

The  old  man  pressed  her  hand  sympathetically.  "  I 
know,"  he  said  thoughtfully.  "  That  is  a  question 
that  had  to  come  to  one  of  your  nature.  And  the 
hardest  part  of  it  is  that  no  one  can  help  you;  you 
must  work  it  out  alone.  Only  one  thing  can  bring 
you  back  your  happiness  —  Morgan  and  your  love  for 
him." 

"  You  mean,  Uncle  Felix  —  " 

"  That  your  love  for  him  will  make  you  forget  the 
deed." 

She  drew  a  long  sigh,  and  clung  closer  to  his 
side. 


306        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

u  It  is  not  that,"  she  answered  slowly.  "  That  has 
made  no  difference  in  my  love  for  him.  It  will  make 
a  difference  in  our  happiness,  I  know;  but  what  I 
fear  is  the  change  in  Morgan.  There  is  something 
that  he  is  keeping  from  me.  I  have  seen  it  every  day 
that  I  was  with  him.  Do  you  know  what  it  is,  Uncle 
Felix  ?" 

The  old  gentleman  looked  away,  avoiding  her  ques- 
tion. 

"  Sargent  went  to  him  yesterday  evening,  as  soon 
as  he  had  come.  I  left  them  together,"  he  resumed 
after  a  short  silence. 

"  Did  you  see  him  afterwards  —  when  he  had  left 
Morgan  ? " 

"  No.  I  only  saw  him  at  breakfast  this  morning. 
But  he  could  talk  of  nothing  but  the  details  of  the 
trial."  Judge  Houston  was  still  looking  away  from 
her.  "  Perhaps,"  he  said  with  a  start,  "  Sargent  will 
do  for  Morgan  what  no  one  else  could  do." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  I  mean  that  when  Morgan  hears  the  speech  for 
his  defence,  couched  in  legal  terms  and  showing  in 
a  convincing  way  that  he  is  not  guilty  of  —  of  murder, 
it  will  bring  to  him  a  realization  of  his  innocence. 
Sargent's  speech  is  going  to  be  wonderful."  The 
old  man's  eyes  deepened  with  the  certainty  of  that 
knowledge.  "  I  saw  that  yesterday  when  he  came 
back,  worn  out  and  exhausted  from  the  long  jour- 
ney. Do  you  know,  Natalia,"  he  looked  at  her  search- 
ingly,  "  I  believe  it  would  help  you,  too.  Will  you 
go? 

They  rode  along  in  silence,  while  Natalia's  hand 
trembled  in  his  clasp. 


A   ROAD    TO    HAPPINESS        307 

"When  will  it  be?" 

"  I  hope  to-morrow.  If  all  the  evidence  is  heard 
by  noon,  the  speeches  will  come  in  the  afternoon." 

"  Do  you  think  I  could  bear  seeing  Morgan  in  that 
room  before  a  court  of  judges?  "  she  murmured,  ask- 
ing the  question  more  of  herself  than  of  him.  "  I 
am  afraid,  Uncle  Felix.  It  would  be  indelibly  stamped 
upon  my  memory." 

"  But  you  would  be  hearing  him  defended  against 
an  accusation  that  was  unjust.  You  would  see  him 
in  the  light  of  justice  and  right.  That  would  be  the 
lasting  thought.  Take  my  advice,  Natalia,"  he  urged. 
"  Perhaps  your  sensitiveness  recoils  from  being  seen 
there;  but  there  are  some  situations  in  life  in  which 
we  must  forget  our  preferences  for  others." 

"  Your  confidence  helps  me  —  but  if  the  outcome 
should  be  otherwise?  " 

"  It  cannot  be  otherwise.  If  you  knew  Sargent 
as  I  do,  you  would  know  that  there  could  be  no 
doubt." 

Natalia  sank  back  against  the  cushions.  Every  ar- 
gument that  she  had  used  lately  seemed  to  lead  directly 
to  one  answer  —  Sargent  Everett.  The  confidence  he 
inspired  in  every  one  seemed  without  limit;  even 
Judge  Houston,  with  an  age  and  experience  that  were 
exceptional,  was  willing  to  trust  everything  to  him, 
gaining  from  that  trust  a  happy  confidence  where 
doubts  were  unknown.  And  deeper  than  this  trust, 
was  the  love  that  she  had  seen  with  her  own  eyes. 
Mrs.  Houston  showed  it  in  the  brightness  of  her  face 
when  she  discussed  him,  and  Dicey  seemed  to  be 
under  a  spell  which  not  even  her  love  for  Natalia 
could  affect.     Natalia  found  herself  wondering  over 


308        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

Judge  Houston's  words  when  he  had  finished  talk- 
ing, and  in  her  thoughts  had  suddenly  flashed  a  pang 
of  resentment  that  this  man  had  grown  deeper  into 
the  hearts  of  those  she  loved,  than  herself.  She  was 
passing  his  house  as  this  thought  came  into  her  mind, 
and  in  the  quiet  dignity  of  the  classic  white  columns 
against  the  red  brick,  the  clean  swept  lawn  and  care- 
fully clipped  box,  she  imagined  she  saw  a  reflection 
of  the  man's  purpose  and  strength. 

Following  the  feeling  of  jealousy  came  the  remem- 
brance of  what  he  was  doing  for  her.  He  had  given 
up  his  campaign,  unfinished,  to  save  her  lover.  And 
it  was  alone  from  the  call  for  help  that  she  had  sent 
to  him.  Suddenly  every  word  that  she  had  heard 
about  him  since  her  return  to  the  old  home  stood  out 
distinctly,  full  of  hidden  meanings,  full  of  evasions, 
that  she  had  only  guessed  at  and  pushed  out  of  her 
thoughts  as  unreasonable.  Now  she  saw  plainly. 
Every  detail  spoke  a  certainty.  And  she,  stum- 
bling blindly  through  it  all,  had  at  the  end  de- 
manded a  sacrifice  that  would  ruin  his  career  in  the 
world. 

They  had  reached  the  town  and  were  passing  along 
the  streets  at  the  hour  when  people  were  coming  from 
their  supper  tables  to  sit  on  the  lawns.  Natalia  loos- 
ened her  veil  and  shrank  further  back  into  the  car- 
riage, shuddering  from  the  looks  of  sympathy  cast 
towards  her.  When  they  had  reached  the  jail  and 
gone  up  the  walk  together,  she  stopped  a  moment 
before  the  door  and  laid  her  hand  on  Judge  Houston's 
arm. 

"  Why  did  Sargent  Everett  not  come  to  me  instead 
of  to  Morgan?     It  was  I  who  sent  for  him."     The 


A    ROAD    TO    HAPPINESS         309 

overpowering  discovery  had  pressed  out  all  other 
thoughts  at  that  moment. 

"  Because  Morgan  needed  him,"  came  the  answer, 
the  old  man's  face  averted.     "  You  did  not." 

Natalia  withdrew  her  hand,  a  little  bewildered. 
Perhaps,  after  all,  her  inflamed  imagination  had  car- 
ried her  beyond  the  truth ! 

They  entered  the  gloomy  corridor  together,  and  as 
the  door  to  Morgan's  cell  was  unlocked,  Judge  Hous- 
ton stepped  back  to  let  Natalia  enter  alone.  During 
her  former  visits  she  had  found  Joel  always  beside 
Morgan,  cheering  him  and  talking  about  the  trial  in  a 
lively  manner  that  was  a  feeble  attempt  to  dispel  the 
gloom  which  had  settled  over  him.  This  time  Morgan 
was  alone,  standing  at  the  window  looking  out  at  the 
gorgeous  sunset.  When  he  turned  at  her  entrance, 
she  started  back  when  she  had  seen  the  expression  of 
his  face.  The  change  was  remarkable ;  instead  of  the 
mute  suffering  which  she  had  seen  in  his  eyes  during 
the  last  few  days,  was  now  a  semblance  of  his  old  self, 
the  same  brilliant  expression  and  colouring,  only  deep- 
ened and  strengthened  by  experience.  And  in  his 
eyes,  as  they  rested  on  her,  she  saw  again  the  love 
which  had  hitherto  been  veiled  in  the  unwonted  ex- 
pression of  his  despair. 

As  he  came  toward  her,  a  flood  of  doubts  swept 
over  her  and  she  put  out  her  hands  as  if  to  ward  off 
a  blow. 

"  Something  has  happened,  Morgan,"  she  cried. 
"What  is  it?" 

He  gathered  her  hands  into  his  strong  clasp  and 
led  her  to  a  chair,  looking  down  at  her  all  the  time, 
like  one  who  had  not  seen  her  for  a  long  time.    When 


310        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

she  had  sunk  into  the  chair,  still  staring  at  him  anx- 
iously, he  pulled  a  stool  up  beside  her,  and  took  hold 
of  her  hands  again. 

"  It  is  nearly  over,  Natalia,"  he  said  with  a  happy 
ring  in  his  voice.  "  They  tell  me  to-morrow  will 
bring  the  end  of  the  trial.  Will  you  ever  forgive  me, 
dear?" 

"Forgive  you!  What?"  she  answered,  still  read- 
ing his  face  for  some  explanation. 

"  For  almost  ruining  your  happiness  and  mine.  I 
had  felt  all  along  that  your  love  for  me  would  die  after 
I  had  killed  Jervais;  that  even  if  it  were  in  self-de- 
fence, you  would  not  be  able  to  forget  the  crime.  But 
it  isn't  true  —  you  do  not  feel  that  way,  do  you?  " 

"  Morgan  —  you  have  changed !  Something  has 
happened  that  I  do  not  know  about !     What  is  it  ?  " 

She  put  her  hands  on  his  shoulders  and  searched 
his  face.  A  rush  of  doubts  was  making  her  heart 
beat  furiously. 

"  I  am  changed !  I  am  an  entirely  different  man," 
he  answered,  smiling  into  her  anxious  eyes.  "  How 
could  a  man  who  was  as  wretched  as  I,  and  who  has 
suddenly  been  shown  the  way  to  happiness,  be  other- 
wise than  changed !  The  world  has  become  a  different 
place  to  me,  Natalia;  and  after  the  trial,  when  I  am 
a  free  man  and  take  up  my  life  again,  it  will  mean 
so  much  more  to  me  than  ever  before.  Perhaps  I  shall 
be  a  little  older  —  but  we  aren't  children  any  longer, 
either  of  us,  and  the  serious  side  of  life  had  to  come 
some  day.  I  think  what  made  it  so  hard  on  me  was 
that  it  came  so  suddenly."  He  stopped  for  a  moment, 
pressing  her  hands  tight,  then  holding  them  to  his 
lips.    "  There  has  been  a  change  in  you,  too,  Natalia," 


A    ROAD    TO    HAPPINESS         311 

he  continued,  his  face  glowing  with  the  love  he  was 
expressing.  "  I  saw  it  keenly  that  night  you  came 
to  me  here.  At  first  I  thought  your  love  for  me  was 
gone,  —  not  that  you  were  not  kind  and  sympathetic 
and  gentle  —  but  in  your  eyes  I  fancied  I  saw  more 
pity  than  love." 

Morgan  rose  from  his  seat  and  stood  before  her, 
as  if  shaking  off  the  remembrance  of  that  hour.  "  It 
almost  drove  me  mad  that  night  when  my  imagina- 
tion was  let  loose,  and  in  its  reflected  images  I  saw 
a  future  in  which  you  had  forsaken  me,  and  I  was 
left  to  drift  through  life  alone,  without  hope,  with 
only  the  horror  of  a  crime  for  companionship.  It 
was  always  with  me  —  that  haunting  fancy  —  until," 
his  voice  deepened  vibrantly,  "  until  I  was  shown  my 
mistake." 

"  Until  you  were  shown,"  Natalia  repeated  mechan- 
ically. 

"  Yes,  until  I  was  shown  my  happiness  —  by  Sar- 
gent Everett." 

She  pressed  her  hand  quickly  to  her  heart.  Its 
quick  throbbing  had  frightened  her.  It  was  true  now; 
she  no  longer  felt  any  doubts.  Her  happiness  and 
Morgan's  were  being  builded  upon  the  sacrifice  of  an- 
other. The  exaltation  of  the  thought  swept  through 
her  with  a  great  rush ;  a  lightness,  almost  a  dizziness, 
made  her  breath  come  quickly.  She  found  herself 
trembling  with  vague,  uncomprehending  emotions. 
Then  followed  the  quick  reversal;  and  the  throbbing 
life  ebbed  away,  leaving  her  cold  and  numb. 

"  What  did  he  tell  you  ?  "  she  heard  herself  asking. 

Morgan  looked  down  at  her  from  the  great  height 
of  his  renewed  self-confidence. 


312        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

"  He  told  me  so  much  that  I  hardly  know  where  to 
begin.  In  my  utter  despair,  last  night,  when  it  seemed 
to  me  that  I  should  prefer  this  trial  to  end  in  my 
death  —  I  had  reached  that  depth,  Natalia  —  he  came. 
It  was  the  moment  when  I  needed  help  most,  and  when 
I  saw  him  standing  there  at  the  door,  and  looking  for 
all  the  world  as  he  used  to  when  he  would  come  into 
my  room  at  college  —  I  knew  that  he  had  come  to 
help  me.  His  whole  aspect  told  me  so,  before  he  had 
said  one  word.  It  was  a  long  time  before  he  would 
let  me  tell  him  about  this  awful  week,  but  when  he 
did,  it  was  wonderful  to  see  how  the  friend  disap- 
peared in  the  lawyer.  He  asked  me  question  after 
question,  relentlessly,  sharply,  insistently,  over  and 
over  again  the  same  questions  until  I  felt  that  he  had 
forgotten  what  he  was  doing.  Finally  he  stopped ; 
it  was  after  midnight.  When  he  had  risen  to  go,  I 
asked  him  to  stay  longer  so  that  I  could  tell  him  of 
the  plan  I  had  been  formulating.  I  did  not  speak  of 
it  to  you  because  I  knew  so  well  what  your  answer 
would  be.  I  had  decided  to  go  away  after  the  trial  — 
for  a  year  or  more.  I  was  not  going  to  write  to 
you  nor  ask  you  to  write  to  me.  I  did  not  even  want 
you  to  know  where  I  was,  so  that  when  the  year  had 
passed,  you  would  know  if  you  still  loved  me  —  if  this 
tragedy  had  made  any  difference  in  your  love." 

"  You  told  him  that  ?  "  she  interrupted,  wondering 
over  the  answer. 

"  Yes  —  just  as  I  am  telling  you.  He  listened  to 
me  quietly,  —  strangely  quiet,  I  thought  —  until  I 
looked  up  and  saw  him  gazing  down  upon  that  table 
as  if  he  had  not  heard  a  single  word.  It  was  a  long 
time  before  he  answered  me,  and  when  his  eyes  met 


A    ROAD    TO    HAPPINESS         313 

mine  again,  they  were  full  of  weariness,  almost  piti- 
fully weary.  I  believe  the  fellow  is  killing  himself 
with  work." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  "  Natalia's  voice  came  low  and 
halting. 

"  He  said  that  if  we  should  ever  need  each  other, 
it  would  be  now ;  that  when  I  went  away  I  must  take 
you  with  me;  that  if  you  were  not  with  me  at  such 
a  time,  our  love  would  have  lost  its  usefulness;  that 
if  it  meant  anything  to  us,  it  must  shine  brighter  in 
our  time  of  trouble." 

Natalia  rose  from  the  chair  and  went  to  the  window. 
Resting  her  hands  against  the  bars,  she  peered  out 
into  the  fast  gathering  dusk;  her  back  towards  Mor- 
gan, giving  her  a  certain  sense  of  privacy  which  she 
craved  at  that  moment.  As  Morgan  continued  talk- 
ing to  her,  she  found  herself  watching  with  a  strange 
intentness,  the  objects  disappearing  from  her  view  as 
the  night  shadows  crept  nearer  and  nearer. 

"  I  told  him  how  I  feared  your  love  for  me  was 
gone,"  Morgan  continued,  his  words  rolling  out  with 
increasing  enthusiasm.  "  Of  how  I  felt  my  deed  had 
made  a  great  abyss  between  us.  It  was  then  that  he 
said  you  were  not  a  woman  who  would  forsake  the 
man  she  loved  when  he  needed  her  most.  He  said  it 
was  the  time  in  a  woman's  life  when  she  became 
divine  —  when  the  woman  was  like  you ;  pure  and 
true  and  noble." 

"  Pure  and  true  and  noble."  Again  the  great 
thought  of  immolation  surged  through  Natalia.  She 
gripped  the  bars  before  her,  steadying  herself  with  the 
little  strength  that  seemed  left  her.  Pure  and  true 
and  noble!    He  had  said  that  of  her,  he  had  thought 


314        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

that  of  her,  and  he  had  known  her  only  years  ago. 
And  yet  she  was  causing  him  to  give  up  everything 
in  his  life,  even  his  political  career,  to  save  her  hap- 
piness ! 

The  night  was  about  her  now.  The  square  of  win- 
dow through  which  she  peered  became  a  black  splotch 
in  which  her  thoughts  burst  into  tongues  of  far-reach- 
ing flames. 

In  the  long  silence  she  heard  Morgan  coming 
towards  her.  His  arm  slipped  around  her  waist,  and 
as  his  words  came,  she  felt  his  hot  breath  against  her 
cheek. 

"  He  talked  about  you  so  beautifully,  Natalia,"  he 
said,  with  a  half-humourous  note  in  his  voice,  "  that 
one  would  have  thought  it  was  he  who  was  in  love 
with  you  instead  of  I.  He  said  that  I  must  fight  for 
your  love  now,  more  than  I  ever  had  before;  that  I 
must  make  you  forget  everything  that  had  happened, 
in  the  happiness  I  could  bring  you.  And  then  —  in 
a  moment  —  it  came  to  me  —  the  mistake  I  had  made. 
I  had  been  looking  for  you  to  do  everything;  and  I 
nothing  for  myself." 

Suddenly  a  sob  broke  from  her,  and  in  that  moment 
Morgan  pressed  her  to  him  in  a  close  embrace  and 
covered  her  face  with  kisses.  All  the  passion  of  the 
man  had  been  called  into  life  by  the  sob.  He  knew 
now  that  she  did  love  him.  The  tragedy  and  its  days 
of  misery  were  forgotten  in  the  future  that  stretched 
before  them,  as  brilliant  and  as  beautiful  as  it  had 
ever  been. 

Pure  and  true  and  noble!  The  words  still  rang 
in  Natalia's  consciousness,  blotting  out  even  the 
thought   that  her  lover  had   regained   his   strength. 


A    ROAD    TO    HAPPINESS         315 

With  his  arms  about  her,  she  still  heard  them;  even 
with  Morgan's  lips  pressed  upon  hers,  she  seemed  to 
gain  a  wider  perception  of  what  had  been  done  for 
her  sake. 

"  My  trial  will  end  to-morrow,  Sargent  thinks," 
he  went  on,  in  a  torrent  of  words,  still  holding  her 
tight  in  his  arms.  "  Afterwards  —  when  I  am  free  — 
for  I  shall  be  free,  Natalia,  I  feel  it  can  not  be  other- 
wise —  we  shall  go  away,  you  and  I ;  a  long  way 
off,  where  there  will  be  nothing  to  remind  us  of  this 
awful  week.  We  shall  forget  everything,  even  the 
old  house  that  you  used  to  love  so.  But  you  don't 
now,  do  you?  Why,  you  are  shivering,  Natalia! 
Haven't  you  the  confidence  in  my  release  that  I  have  ? 
But  you  have  not  heard  Sargent  yet.  Wait  until  you 
hear  him  to-morrow,  for  you  are  going,  aren't  you? 
I  want  you  to.  There's  an  odd  power  about  him;  I 
noticed  it  to-day  when  he  questioned  the  witnesses. 
He  seems  to  get  everything  out  of  every  one  by  his 
quiet,  easy  manner."  He  stopped  a  moment  and  went 
back  to  the  table.  "  Natalia,  after  the  trial,  will  you 
do  something  I  wish  very  much?  There  is  a  boat 
Wednesday;  if  everything  is  settled  to-morrow,  are 
you  willing  to  leave  the  next  day?  I  somehow  feel 
that  we  shall  be  happier  the  sooner  all  this  is  behind 
us." 

Natalia's  eyes  were  closed  tight,  her  lips  pressed 
close  together,  while  she  stood  listening  to  Morgan's 
voice  as  if  it  came  from  a  great  distance.  Through 
the  happiness  of  his  words,  through  the  happiness  they 
brought  her,  was  blending  a  bitter  suffering  that  kept 
back  all  response  to  his  joy.  The  power  of  the  greater 
thought  still  throbbed  in  her  veins.     Her  own  love 


316         THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

and  Morgan's  had  become  a  weak,  puerile  thing  by 
comparison. 

At  last  she  forced  herself  into  a  calm  self-posses- 
sion and  turned  towards  him. 

"  Of  course  I  am  going  with  you,  Morgan,"  she 
said,  laying  her  head  on  his  shoulder  and  forcing  a 
smile  to  her  lips,  "  and  the  sooner  we  go,  as  you  say, 
the  happier  we  shall  be." 

The  lantern  on  the  gate  post  flashed  into  Natalia's 
face  as  they  drove  into  the  grounds;  and  as  Judge 
Houston  assisted  her  from  the  carriage,  he  extended 
his  arm,  for  he  had  seen  her  pallor. 

"  You  are  very  pale,  Natalia,"  he  said,  bending 
over  her.  "  Poor  little  girl,  it  has  been  a  bad,  bad 
time  for  you;  but  'twill  be  all  right  soon.  Let  me 
carry  you  up-stairs." 

"  No,  Uncle  Felix,"  she  put  out  her  hand  quickly. 
"  You  go  in.  I  want  to  stay  out  here  a  few  minutes. 
Tell  Millicent  that  Morgan  is  happy  again." 

The  old  gentleman  stooped  and  kissed  her  very 
gently  and  went  into  the  house. 

When  she  was  alone,  she  walked  along  the  stone 
slabs  of  the  veranda  to  a  place  where  the  columns  cast 
a  deep  shadow.  Kneeling  upon  the  cold  stones,  she 
lifted  her  clasped  hands  in  prayer  for  the  one  who 
had  saved  her  happiness  through  his  own  renuncia- 
tion. 


CHAPTER    XII 

THE    MUSIC   OF    HIS   VOICE 

In  the  early  morning  Dicey  went  into  Natalia's 
room,  and  noiselessly  turning  the  slats  in  a  shutter, 
crept  toward  the  bed.  She  stood  there  irresolutely 
for  a  few  moments;  then  went  softly  around  to  the 
other  side  of  the  bed  where  she  could  look  into  Na- 
talia's face.  She  started  back  when  she  saw  the  wide- 
open,  sleepless  eyes  gazing  at  her. 

Laying  her  hand  soothingly  on  Natalia's  feverish 
brow,  she  gently  smoothed  back  the  long  black 
hair. 

"  Honey-chile,"  she  said,  when  the  light  began  to 
stream  through  the  shutters,  "  I  jes'  knows  yer  ain' 
slep'  er  wink  an'  heah  hit's  de  day  Marsa  gwine  speak. 
An'  yer  hain'  tole  yer  ole  Mammy  whut  fixins  ter  lay 
out  fer  yer.  Which  is  dey,  honey?  Yer  jes'  tell 
Mammy  an'  she'll  fix  dem  so's  yer  won'  habe  er  speck 
ob  worry  'bout  dem." 

Natalia  looked  at  her  yearningly. 

"  Dear  old  Mammy,"  she  answered,  "  how  you  love 
me  —  how  I  love  you." 

"  Sho  I  lubs  yer,  honey  —  bettah  dan  anybody 
else  —  eben  bettah  dan  Marse  Sargent.  But  yer  mus' 
look  killin'  ter-day,  honey-chile,"  said  Dicey,  returning 
to  the  subject  of  most  importance  in  her  eyes.  "  Whut 
furbelows  mus'  I  put  out  ?  " 

317 


318        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

Natalia  stirred  restlessly,  finally  taking  hold  of 
Dicey's  coarsened  hand  and  holding  it  close  to  her 
face. 

"  Don't  bother,  Mammy  —  I  am  not  going  to  hear 
him  speak  —  I  don't  think  I  could  bear  it." 

"  Yer  not  gwine  heah  de  Marser  speak?"  Dicey 
stared  at  her,  her  countenance  eloquent  of  dismay. 
"  Yer  not  gwine  heah  him !  "  she  reiterated,  her  voice 
rising  to  a  higher  pitch. 

"  No,"  Natalia  answered,  meeting  the  angry  eyes 
sadly.     "  I  can't  do  it,  Mammy." 

"  An'  he  cum  all  dis  way  jes'  fer  yer,  and  dat  de 
way  yer  gwine  treat  him!  I  calls  hit  er  bu'nin' 
shame !  " 

The  old  slave's  temper  gained  control  of  her,  and 
in  her  impatience  she  frowned  darkly  upon  Natalia. 

"  He  will  never  know,  Mammy."  She  questioned 
the  words  as  she  spoke  them.  "  He  would  not  see 
me  if  I  were  there." 

"  He'd  see  yer  and  he'd  know  ef  yer  wuzn'  dar.  Ef 
yer  don'  go,  I'se  gwine  back  ter  him." 

"  You  can't  go  back  to  him,  Mammy.  You  belong 
to  me,  now." 

"  Cose  I  does,  honey."  Dicey's  voice  softened  as 
her  anger  ebbed. 

"  But  I  wants  yer  ter  go.  He  wants  yer  ter  go,  too, 
I  know  he  does." 

"  Mammy,"  Natalia  said,  lying  perfectly  still,  her 
eyes  staring  into  Dicey's.  "  Do  you  know  why  he  is 
doing  all  this  for  me?  " 

"  Cose  I  does.    Hit's  'cause  he  lubs  yer." 

"  Yes,  that's  it,  Mammy.  But  what  have  I  done 
for  him  ?    What  right  have  I  to  demand  all  this  from 


THE  MUSIC  OF  HIS  VOICE       319 

him?  What  have  I  done  to  deserve  it?  What  can  I 
do  now  —  " 

She  ended  abruptly,  turning  away  and  burying  her 
face  in  the  pillows.  It  was  then  that  Dicey  sat  down 
on  the  bed  and  leaned  close  to  her,  her  eyes  suddenly 
ablaze  with  a  great  hope. 

"  You'se  gwine  ter  heah  him,  honey,"  she  said,  after 
a  long  pause,  during  which  she  viewed  the  situation  in 
her  mind,  seeking  through  channels  of  thought  to 
find  the  road  that  would  lead  towards  the  goal  she 
had  been  planning.  "  You'se  gwine  ter  heah  him, 
'cause  ef  you'se  gwine  way  ter-morrow  hit'll  be  de 
las'  chance  yer'll  git  ter  heah  him.  Yer  see,  don'  yer, 
dat  yer  bettah  see  him  dis  one  las'  time  —  dis  one  las' 
time." 

Natalia  moved  suddenly  and  sat  up;  resting  her 
hands  for  a  moment  on  the  side  of  the  bed,  as  if  still 
undecided,  she  finally  put  her  feet  to  the  floor  and 
faced  Dicey. 

"  I  believe  you  are  right,  Mammy,"  she  said 
thoughtfully.  "  It  is  the  last  time  I  shall  ever  hear 
him  or  see  him.    If  I  only  had  the  courage  —  " 

Downstairs  she  found  Mrs.  Houston  standing  in 
the  midst  of  boxes  and  packing  materials.  Judge 
Houston  had  told  her  the  night  before  of  Morgan's 
desire  to  leave  on  the  first  boat.  Seeing  the  wisdom 
in  such  a  step  he  had  advised  his  wife  to  go  on  with 
the  preparations  for  departure  as  if  everything  were 
already  decided.  So  great  was  the  confidence  of  this 
old  couple  in  Sargent's  ability,  that  they  could  conceive 
of  no  outcome  of  the  trial  other  than  they  had  planned. 

When  Natalia  had  gone  out  on  the  back  veranda, 


320        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

she  went  directly  up  to  the  old  lady  and  kissed  her. 
There  were  no  words  either  of  them  could  find  to  say. 
Mrs.  Houston  went  back  to  her  work,  wrapping  each 
article  with  the  precise  care  of  a  vain  housewife. 

"  I  am  nearly  through,"  she  said  at  last.  "  Almost 
all  of  the  wedding  presents  are  packed  —  except  the 
peacock."  She  attempted  a  smile,  and  failed  sadly. 
"  Of  course  you  do  not  want  to  take  him  with  you." 

Natalia  turned  away  quickly. 

"  I  don't  want  to  take  any  of  them,  Aunt  Maria," 
she  said,  tears  coming  into  her  eyes.  "  I  don't  want 
to  go  away.  It  has  all  been  terrible  —  these  last 
days  —  but  I  still  love  this  old  place  better  than  any 
in  the  world.  But  I  must  do  it  for  Morgan's  sake. 
He  would  be  miserable  here." 

The  old  lady  put  down  her  package  carefully,  then 
went  to  Natalia  and  gathered  her  in  her  arms. 

"  You'll  forget  all  about  it  after  a  while,"  she  said 
gently.  "  And  some  day  you  both  will  be  coming  back 
here,  happier  than  ever.  Now  tell  me,"  wiping  her 
eyes  and  returning  to  matters  of  the  moment,  "  when 
will  you  be  married  —  to-night  or  in  the  morning?" 

"  To-morrow  morning,"  Natalia  answered  slowly. 

Just  then  Dicey  brought  a  tray  on  which  a  steaming 
cup  of  coffee  and  hot  rolls  were  displayed  temptingly. 

"  Now,  you'se  got  ter  drink  hit,  honey,"  she  in- 
sisted, making  a  great  fuss  over  placing  it  before 
Natalia.  "  'Cause  we  am'  gwine  hab  no  dinnah,  fer 
de  Jedge  done  jes'  send  word  fer  us  ter  be  in  town 
fo'  two  o'clock." 

The  Court  House  yard  was  crowded.  Along  the 
fence  and  beneath  the  protection  of  the  trees  was  the 


THE  MUSIC  OF  HIS  VOICE       321 

gathering  of  carriages  and  wagons  which  always  told 
that  something  unusual  was  taking  place  within  the 
old  brick  building. 

When  the  carriage  containing  Natalia,  Millicent  and 
Mrs.  Houston  had  stopped  before  the  gate,  Natalia 
looked  silently  at  the  building,  feeling  almost  as  if  she 
were  viewing  it  through  the  eyes  of  another  person. 
That  within  it,  her  lover  was  being  tried  for  his  life, 
and  defended  by  the  man  who  had  given  up  every- 
thing for  her,  seemed  to  enhance  the  feeling  of  aloof- 
ness and  helplessness  which  had  taken  possession  of 
her  since  the  day  before.  She  felt  that  she  no  longer 
lived  in  the  same  sphere  with  those  about  her;  that 
she  had  reached  a  vague,  uninhabited  world  where 
her  surroundings  were  only  dreams  and  weirdly  haunt- 
ing words  and  fiery  tongues  of  conscience  that  moved 
in  an  endless  circle  and  crushed  her  with  their  fearful 
cries. 

She  had  not  heard  the  words  addressed  to  her  dur- 
ing the  long  drive ;  and  it  was  only  when  Judge  Hous- 
ton came  towards  the  carriage  and  spoke  to  them,  that 
she  awakened  from  the  lethargy.  Even  then,  as  he 
told  her  that  it  was  time  to  go  into  the  court  room, 
she  seemed  to  be  only  half  conscious  of  his  words. 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  Natalia,"  the  old  gentleman 
said,  standing  beside  the  carriage.  Mrs.  Houston  and 
Millicent  were  already  on  the  sidewalk. 

Natalia  looked  at  him  a  moment,  then  glanced  be- 
yond to  the  building  where  people  were  banked  in  the 
windows.  Within,  she  easily  imagined  the  sea  of 
faces. 

"  Uncle  Felix,"  she  cried,  shrinking  back,  and  cov- 
ering her  face  with  her  hands.    "  I  can't  go.    It  would 


322        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

be  fearful  to  see  Morgan  there,  before  that  crowd. 
I  could  not  bear  it!  Let  me  stay  here  and  wait,  but 
tell  him  I  am  here,  near  him !  " 

The  old  gentleman  looked  at  the  others,  perplexed. 
Without  a  word,  Mrs.  Houston  stepped  back  into  the 
carriage  and  took  her  seat  beside  Natalia. 

"  I  shall  stay  with  her,"  she  said.  "  You  all  go  in. 
We  will  be  waiting  for  you  over  there  —  under  that 
tree.  Don't  wait  a  minute  to  come  to  us,  when  you 
know,"  she  added  with  a  quick  anxious  look  towards 
her  husband. 

Zebediah  drove  a  few  yards  away  from  the  gate, 
where  a  great  spreading  elm  cast  a  protecting  shade. 
They  were  closer  to  the  building  than  before,  and  from 
where  they  sat  they  could  easily  see  into  the  court 
room  through  a  wide  window.  The  sounds  of  the 
stirring  crowd  within  came  to  them  quite  distinctly, 
particularly  as  the  grounds  about  the  building  were 
deserted  for  the  great  interest  within. 

Mrs.  Houston,  alert  and  keen  to  see  all  that  was 
taking  place,  sat  bolt  upright,  one  hand  on  Natalia's, 
the  other  moving  with  nervous  jerks  as  she  swayed 
a  large  palmetto  fan.  Natalia  was  in  the  same  position 
as  when  she  had  shrunk  back  from  Judge  Houston  — 
both  hands  covering  her  face  while  she  huddled  piti- 
fully against  the  cushions. 

A  half  hour  passed,  with  the  sound  of  monotonous 
voices  floating  out  to  them.  The  murmur  of  some 
one  reading  seemed  endless.  Then  came  a  long  pause. 
Mrs.  Houston  suddenly  leaned  forward  and  listened. 

"Sargent  is  speaking  —  at  last!"  she  whispered. 
"Listen!     Listen!" 

Natalia  lowered  her  hands  slowly  from  her  face. 


THE  MUSIC  OF  HIS  VOICE       323 

At  first  she  heard  only  a  slight  rippling  of  the  leaves 
of  the  tree  above  her,  then,  on  the  stillness  of  the 
summer  day,  the  sound  of  a  voice  drifted  towards 
her  —  a  voice  she  had  heard  years  and  years  ago. 
Her  hand  tightened  on  Mrs.  Houston's.  Suddenly 
she  stood  up  and  stepped  out  of  the  carriage. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Natalia?"  Mrs.  Houston 
cried  after  her. 

Without  answering  she  walked  to  the  gate  and  went 
rapidly  up  the  walk.  Reaching  the  steps  to  the  main 
door,  she  seemed  to  change  her  mind  quickly  and  went 
along  the  side  of  the  building  until  she  was  just  be- 
neath an  open  window.  Here  she  sank  behind  the 
protection  of  a  shrub,  and  sat  perfectly  still. 

The  voice  that  had  drawn  her  was  very  near  now. 
She  could  hear  the  words  distinctly;  they  came  in  a 
steady  stream,  mellow,  soft,  fluent. 

At  first  she  attempted  to  follow  the  words,  vainly 
trying  to  force  her  thoughts  into  a  comprehension  of 
the  reasoning  employed.  She  soon  found  that  useless ; 
and  with  a  long  sigh  in  which  a  deep  contentment 
enveloped  her,  she  abandoned  herself  to  the  luxury 
of  listening  only  to  the  music  of  the  voice.  It  was 
sweet  and  clear  like  the  ringing  of  silver  bells  in  the 
early  morning;  it  was  deep  and  modulated  and  re- 
sounding, like  the  veiled  diapason  of  a  Cathedral  or- 
gan ;  it  was  winning  and  gentle  and  fresh,  bringing  to 
her  in  some  indefinable  way,  the  faint  fragrance  of 
delicate  flowers. 

Suddenly  the  years  dropped  away.  It  was  all  a 
dream  —  her  thinking  she  was  really  grown.  She  was 
sitting  on  the  terrace  under  the  big  magnolia  tree  and 
the  schoolmaster  was  reading  to  her.     It  was  such  a 


324        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

very  sad  story  he  was  reading;  she  could  hardly  keep 
back  the  tears,  for  it  was  all  about  some  poor  lady 
who  sewed  all  day  on  her  dress  and  had  to  spend  the 
night  ripping  it.  She  had  cried,  she  remembered  now ; 
and  when  he  had  asked  her  why,  she  had  been  so 
ashamed  and  said  it  was  because  she  hated  her  frock 
so  —  a  red  and  purple  poplin  that  had  come  all  the 
way  from  Boston.  And  then  they  were  sitting  there 
again,  one  cold  winter  afternoon,  and  were  watching 
the  sun  sink  behind  the  black,  frosty  lowlands.  She 
had  asked  him  why  the  Indians  had  called  it  the  Land 
of  the  Setting  Sun,  and  he  had  told  her  wonderful 
stories  of  a  race  that  had  inhabited  all  this  country 
and  were  forced,  step  by  step,  to  go  out  into  that  dis- 
tant wilderness  where  the  sun  set  every  night.  Tri- 
fling incidents  crowded  one  upon  the  other,  accentuat- 
ing the  reality  of  the  vision,  until  she  suffered  as 
keenly,  throbbed  with  as  great  a  joy,  as  she  had  in 
living  those  days. 

A  slight  pause  came. 

Then  the  flowing  words  continued.  But  in  that 
moment  the  dreams  had  vanished.  She  knew  now 
what  the  voice  meant.  It  was  fighting  for  her  lover's 
life,  her  happiness.  Her  whole  future  was  dependent 
on  its  continuance,  its  force,  its  compelling  magnetism. 
She  felt  it  now  in  every  fibre  of  her  being.  It  filled 
her  with  an  indefinable  happiness.  She  understood  so 
well  what  it  meant;  it  was  the  full  glory  of  his  love. 
She  was  satisfied  now  that  he  had  carried  her  to  that 
dizzy  height  with  him.  She  would  never  forget;  it 
would  be  with  her  for  ever.  In  that  lay  its  transcend- 
ent beauty.  Through  its  divinity  it  would  become 
eternal. 


THE  MUSIC  OF  HIS  VOICE       325 

Suddenly  the  music  ceased.  She  looked  up.  Mrs. 
Houston  was  leaning  over  her  and  saying  something. 
Finally  she  understood  the  words : 

"  His  speech  is  over.  Come  back  to  the  carriage 
with  me." 

She  rose  from  the  ground  and  walked  unsteadily 
back  to  the  carriage.  In  a  few  minutes  Judge  Hous- 
ton and  Millicent  had  joined  them. 

"  Would  you  prefer  to  wait  at  my  house  ?  "  she 
heard  him  asking.  "  The  speech  for  the  prosecution 
will  last  about  an  hour,  I  suppose.  After  that  —  we 
don't  know  how  long  the  jury  will  take." 

"  Let  us  stay  here,"  Natalia  answered  in  a  voice 
that  did  not  seem  her  own.  "  I  shall  be  nearer  Mor- 
gan.    It  would  be  deserting  him  to  go  away." 

"  Very  well,  my  dear.  I  shall  come  to  you  as  soon 
as  I  know  the  verdict." 

An  hour  more,  with  the  sound  of  other  voices. 
Endless  arguments  and  set  phrases  and  instructions 
to  twelve  men  who  had  already  reached  a  decision. 
Evening  came  on  gradually,  the  trees  grew  dark  and 
began  their  twilight  whispers ;  negroes  began  to  har- 
ness their  horses  to  the  wagons,  coachmen  straightened 
up  and  roused  their  teams ;  the  air  grew  charged  with 
expectancy.  There  was  a  deathly,  waiting  stillness. 
The  case  was  before  the  jury.  Natalia  grasped  Mrs. 
Houston's  hand. 

"  How  much  longer  ?  "  she  asked.  "  How  much 
longer,  Aunt  Maria?" 

"  The  speeches  are  evidently  finished,  Natalia.  We 
have  not  heard  any  voices  for  a  good  while." 

"  Then  the  end  is  nearly  here  ?  • 

The  old  lady  smiled,  reassuringly. 


326        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

"  I  believe  we  shall  all  be  happy  in  a  very  few 
minutes." 

Suddenly  Millicent  stood  up  in  the  carriage. 

"  Here  comes  Judge  Houston !  "  she  cried,  her  voice 
shaking  a  little.  "  Oh !  he  is  smiling !  I  can  see  him 
from  here.  Look,  Natalia !  Don't  you  see  ?  Morgan 
is  free !    There  he  is  —  coming  to  us  now !  " 


CHAPTER   XIII 

THE   GARDEN   OF   SHADOWS 

They  drove  home  in  the  fast-gathering  dusk.  The 
sun  was  gone,  but  through  the  breaks  in  the  trees  a 
gorgeous  after-glow  was  illumining  the  skies.  Moun- 
tains of  clouds  were  piled  up,  bank  upon  bank,  until 
the  broad  sweep  of  heavens  was  filled  with  pinnacles 
of  deep  rose,  each  vying  with  the  other  in  more  ma- 
jestic composition. 

When  they  had  reached  the  house  the  colour  had 
faded;  the  bright  light  from  the  windows  streamed 
out  across  the  doorway;  the  magnolia  grove  was 
slumbering  in  the  peaceful  summer  night. 

Natalia  stepped  within  the  hall,  where  the  candles 
were  burning  cheerily  and  the  savoury  odours  of  sup- 
per came  from  the  dining  room,  and  smiled  wistfully 
upon  them  all. 

'  You  go  with  them,  Morgan,"  she  said,  a  weary 
note  in  her  voice  as  she  stood  with  his  arm  about  her. 
"  All  of  you  have  a  good  time  at  supper  —  but  let  me 
go  to  my  room.  You  will  not  mind,  dear  ?  "  She 
looked  up  at  him  yearningly.  "  I  believe  I  would  be 
a  little  happier  alone  —  for  a  while,"  she  ended,  turn- 
ing away. 

Judge  Houston  followed  her  to  the  steps,  detaining 
her  hand  in  his. 

"  Natalia,"  he  said,  in  a  lowered  voice.  "  Every- 
thing is  all  right  with  you  ?    You  are  happy  again  ?  " 

327 


328        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

She  smiled  into  his  eyes  a  little  sadly. 

"  Yes,  I  am  very  happy,  Uncle  Felix.  Only  —  it  is 
so  different  a  happiness  from  what  I  used  to  know.  It 
seems  a  deeper,  a  more  meaning  thing  than  I  have 
ever  felt  before.  That  is  why  I  want  to  be  alone. 
You  understand,  don't  you?  " 

The  old  gentleman  pressed  her  hand. 

"  Will  you  come  down  again  ?  "  he  asked,  after  a 
moment's  pause.  "  Sargent  is  coming  out  here  to- 
night.   I  should  like  for  him  to  see  you." 

Natalia's  eyes  deepened  and  she  came  closer  to  him. 

"  I  am  glad,  so  —  so  glad,  he  is  coming,"  she  said 
thoughtfully.  "  Yes  —  I  shall  come  down  again.  Tell 
him  I  shall  be  waiting  for  him  in  the  garden  —  the 
garden  of  shadows  —  he  will  know." 

She  went  slowly  up  the  steps  to  her  room.  It  was 
empty;  even  Dicey  had  been  attracted  to  the  kitchen 
by  reports  of  the  wonderful  supper  that  was  being 
prepared. 

She  stood  looking  about  her  for  a  long  time.  It 
was  to  be  her  last  night  among  the  old  surroundings 
she  had  loved  so  well.  The  old  bed,  with  its  huge 
posts  and  carvings  of  fruit  and  flowers,  seemed  to 
respond  to  her  caressing  glance;  the  marble  mantel 
spoke  to  her  of  the  many  winter  evenings  spent  before 
its  hospitable  face ;  the  wall  paper  and  the  carpet,  each 
repeating  a  design  of  baskets  of  roses,  held  stories  of 
the  long  ago;  everything  was  overflowing  with  what 
had  gone  before  —  holding  their  story  of  her  mother's 
life,  and  now,  her  own. 

She  picked  up  a  cashmere  shawl  she  had  found  in 
an  old  cedar  chest  in  the  attic  and  pulled  it  across  her 
shoulders.     That,  too,  was  of  that  elder  day,  and  as 


THE    GARDEN    OF    SHADOWS    329 

she  felt  its  folds  about  her,  it  seemed  a  link  that 
brought  her  in  even  closer  contact  with  the  past. 

After  a  little  while  she  went  down  the  stairs  again, 
avoiding  the  door  to  the  dining  room,  and  slipping 
into  the  parlour  unnoticed.  Her  mother's  portrait 
gazed  down  upon  her,  calm  and  peaceful,  in  the  candle 
light.  Was  it  their  last  parting,  she  mused  as  she 
stood  before  it;  would  they  never  look  into  each 
other's  eyes  again!  She  turned  away  with  dimmed 
eyes,  and  went  noiselessly  out  into  the  night. 

It  was  an  evening  in  which  the  vibrant  sounds  of 
Nature  became  only  a  distant  throbbing,  vague  and 
indistinct.  It  was  very  still  for  moments,  almost 
breathless  save  for  the  occasional  breeze  with  its  bur- 
den of  rustling  leaves. 

Unconsciously  Natalia  went  towards  the  bench 
under  the  magnolia,  and  sitting  down,  looked  out 
across  the  wide,  shimmering  river,  towards  the  far 
horizon.  The  minutes  drifted  along  while  the  stars 
came  out,  and  the  evening  deepened  in  beauty.  The 
breezes  slept  now;  all  the  world  seemed  to  have  sunk 
into  a  balmy  somnolence. 

As  she  sat  there,  lost  to  her  surroundings  yet  vividly 
in  sympathy  with  them,  the  sound  of  a  cane  tapping 
lightly  on  the  ground,  broke  the  silence.  She  lifted 
her  head  quickly,  with  the  movement  of  one  who  is 
startled  by  a  memory ;  then,  rising  quickly,  she  looked 
through  the  grove  and  saw  some  one  coming  towards 
her.  The  light  was  in  her  eyes  so  she  could  see  only 
indistinctly  the  silhouette  of  a  figure  coming  directly 
towards  where  she  stood.  Suddenly  she  smiled,  made 
a  quick  step  forward,  then  drew  back  again. 

"  The    schoolmaster ! "    she   whispered   to  herself, 


330        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

smiling  over  the  familiar  name.  Then  she  called  to 
him  in  a  low  voice  with  the  words  that  brought  rush- 
ing back  the  night  she  had  waited  for  him  by  the 
kitchen  fire.  "  It's  you  —  you've  come  —  I'm  so  — 
so  glad!" 

He  was  before  her  now,  holding  her  hands  in  his 
and  looking  down  into  her  face  with  the  kind,  sweet 
expression  she  had  forgotten  for  so  long  a  time. 

"  Natalia !  Natalia !  "  he  said  as  if  a  little  dazed. 
"  You  have  grown  into  a  woman,  haven't  you  ?  " 

Quite  suddenly  she  drew  her  hands  away  from  him 
and  sank  on  the  bench,  the  tears  streaming  down  her 
face. 

"  I  am  so,  so  glad  you  have  come,"  she  repeated 
between  her  sobs.  "If  you  only  knew  how  I  have 
suffered  these  last  few  days.  I  can't  help  crying  — 
forgive  me.  You  seem  to  bring  back  the  old,  happy 
days  to  me  so.  I  know  you  will  think  I'm  quite  the 
little  girl  still." 

Sargent  sat  down  beside  her,  drawing  her  hand 
through  his  arm,  and  holding  it  gently. 

"  They  told  me  you  were  out  here,"  he  began,  his 
voice  trembling  slightly,  "  and  I  asked  them  to  let  me 
find  you.  I  thought  I  knew  where  you  were.  I  did  — 
you  see." 

Natalia  did  not  attempt  to  answer  him ;  drying  her 
eyes  with  her  free  hand,  she  began  to  look  at  him 
intently. 

"  When  I  got  your  message,"  he  continued  in  the 
low,  modulated  voice  that  rang  in  her  ears  searchin^y, 
"  I  believe  I  expected  to  see  you  again  just  as  you  had 
gone  away.  It  brought  back  our  days  together,  with 
such  a  rush ;  it  made  me  realize  that  you  had  not  for- 


THE    GARDEN    OF    SHADOWS    331 

gotten,  either.  You  see,  Natalia,  even  in  politics, 
everything  is  not  entirely  blotted  out." 

She  drew  her  hand  slowly  away  from  him,  clasping 
them  both  tight  in  her  lap. 

"  And  yet  you  threw  away  your  chance,  to  come  to 
me!" 

"  Don't  you  remember  my  promise  to  come  to  you  ? 
I  said  no  matter  where  I  was,  I  would  come  to  you 
when  you  needed  me.  Do  you  think  I  should  have 
deserved  to  win  if  I  had  done  otherwise  ?  " 

"  I  had  released  you  from  that  promise  —  by  not 
keeping  mine,"  she  answered  with  unsteady  voice. 

"  You  were  only  a  little  girl  then,  Natalia  —  of 
course  you  did  not  know  what  you  were  promising. 
Besides,  we  were  both  children,  and  children  forget 
quickly." 

She  looked  at  him,  curiously.  Could  it  be  true  that 
she  was  mistaken? 

"  You  did  not  forget,"  she  murmured. 

"  How  could  I  forget  what  you  had  been  to  me ! 
Those  were  long,  long  days  to  me,  Natalia,  and  with- 
out you,  I  don't  know  how  I  should  have  gotten 
through  them.  You  made  them  beautiful  and  happy 
for  me,  for  in  your  confidence  and  dependence,  I  was 
brought  out  of  my  brooding  upon  those  I  had  left 
behind  me.  You  and  Judge  Houston  were  the  only 
ones  to  whom  I  could  tell  my  real  yearnings,  and  even 
as  a  child,  I  felt  you  understood  and  sympathized.  It 
was  hard  on  me  when  you  went  away ;  only  in  endless 
work  did  I  find  any  consolation.  Ah,  how  I  did  work, 
Natalia !  People  say  things  come  easy  to  me,  but  that 
is  because  when  others  begin  to  study  a  case  my  nights 
of  ceaseless  labour  have  been  finished.    But  in  the  late 


332        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

afternoons,  my  thoughts  always  drifted  back  to  you; 
and  when  this  dear  old  place  was  closed,  and  your 
little  brothers  and  their  mother  went  away,  I  would 
come  out  here  often  and  sit,  right  where  you  are  now, 
and  wonder  where  you  were  and  if  you  would  ever 
come  back  to  me  again." 

Natalia  leaned  back  on  the  bench  with  a  gradual 
lessening  of  all  forces.  Sargent's  influence,  the  calm 
tones  of  his  voice,  the  old  charm  of  his  presence,  crept 
over  her  with  a  quieting  effect  that  left  her  wholly  con- 
tented. She  had  no  other  wish  now  than  to  hear  him 
talking  to  her. 

"  And  yet,"  he  said  wistfully,  "  there  is  so  little  that 
I  know  of  you  during  those  years;  there  is  so  much 
for  you  to  tell  me." 

"  It  seems  nothing  now,"  she  answered,  breaking 
the  silence  of  a  few  moments.  "  I  do  not  seem  to  have 
really  lived  until  the  last  few  days  —  the  rest  was  only 
playing,  and  not  worth  recounting." 

"  Ah  —  but  you  are  wrong.  It  is  because  it  was 
your  life  that  I  want  to  hear  it." 

Natalia  looked  at  him  quickly  and  saw  only  his 
kind,  glowing  eyes  bent  on  her. 

"  And  since  I  have  suffered,"  she  continued  slowly, 
"  it  seems  to  me  those  years  of  my  life  taught  me  so 
little  how  to  know  life." 

"They  taught  you  to  love,"  Sargent  answered 
quietly.     "  Don't  you  count  that  as  a  great  deal?  " 

"Yes,  —  but  I  —  "  she  stopped  abruptly.  It  was 
on  her  lips  to  say  she  had  known  that  as  a  little  girl, 
and  in  the  knowledge  that  she  could  not  say  it  to  him, 
came  to  her  the  first  feeling  of  restraint. 

"  That  is  all  one  need  learn  to  be  happy,"  he  con- 


THE    GARDEN    OF    SHADOWS    333 

tinued,  as  if  unaware  of  the  interruption.  *  It  is  the 
centre  about  which  the  world  is  circling  —  at  least  the 
part  of  the  world  that  is  worthiest.  Tell  me  about 
yourself  and  Morgan,  Natalia.  Tell  me  as  you  used 
to,  when  we  would  sit  out  here  after  school  hours,  I 
forgetting  that  I  was  a  teacher,  and  you,  that  you  were 
a  little  girl.  I  wonder  if  you  have  forgotten  the  lines 
about '  books  in  brooks.'  " 

As  if  in  reply  she  leaned  a  little  forward  and  looked 
up  before  her  into  the  starlit  sky,  quoting  softly : 

"And  this  our  life,  exempt  from  public  haunt, 
Finds  tongues  in  trees,  books  in  running  brooks, 
Sermons  in  stones,  and  good  in  everything." 

"  Do  you  remember  how  you  would  explain  to  me 
over  and  over  again,  about  sermons  being  in  stones? 
And  how  you  laughed  when  I  asked  Mammy  if  she 
understood.  No,  I  don't  believe  I've  forgotten  any- 
thing," laughing  lightly,  as  the  restraint  slipped  from 
her  and  the  old  feeling  of  sympathy  rushed  back. 
"  How  your  voice  brings  it  all  back  to  me !  Have  I 
been  asleep  and  dreaming  all  these  years  and  just 
awakened  ?  I  can  shut  my  eyes  and  listen  to  you,  and 
at  once  I  am  a  little  girl  again.  That  is  what  I  am 
going  to  do  now.  Talk  to  me,  as  you  say  I  used  to 
talk  to  you.     Tell  me  of  your  great  success." 

Sargent  gazed  at  her  as  she  leaned  back  against 
the  bench,  one  hand  over  her  eyes  to  shut  out  all  sense 
of  reality.  He  could  see  the  gentle  rise  and  fall  of 
her  bosom  beneath  the  thin  frock;  and  the  helpless, 
tired  look  of  her  hand  as  it  lay  in  her  lap,  struck  him 
with  a  peculiar  tenderness.     It  made  him  forget  for 


334        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

a  moment.  He  leaned  forward  to  kiss  it,  then  drew 
back  slowly. 

"  I  used  to  tell  you  fairy  tales  then,"  he  began  at 
last.  "  You  see  —  I  can't  now.  You  wouldn't  believe 
them." 

With  her  hand  still  before  her  eyes  she  answered 
him. 

"  Start  at  the  time  when  I  went  away  and  tell  me 
everything.  I  know  it  will  sound  like  a  fairy  tale  — 
your  rise  to  the  heights." 

"  My  rise,"  he  said,  questioningly.  "  I  believe  it 
has  come." 

Natalia  turned  towards  him,  her  face  brilliant. 

"  Then  you  were  elected  —  you  go  to  Washing- 
ton —  Uncle  Felix  said  the  news  would  come  to- 
night!" 

Sargent  turned  away  from  the  brilliance  of  her 
glance.  It  was  almost  too  much  for  him  to  bear  that 
she  should  have  thought  that  was  what  he  meant. 
Suddenly  his  lips  tightened  firmly.  She  should  not 
know! 

"  You  don't  know  what  happiness  it  is  to  me  to 
know  it,"  Natalia  continued,  her  face  glowing  with  a 
new  happiness.  "  I  thought  I  had  caused  you  to  give 
up  your  election,  to  come  to  me.  Now,  it  is  all  differ- 
ent. Everything  with  you  is  successful  —  absolutely 
everything  you  undertake." 

Sargent  winced  at  her  words,  thinking  of  a  time, 
years  gone  by,  when  Judge  Houston  had  told  him  that 
success  seen  by  the  world,  and  felt  by  the  man,  were 
widely  separated.  "Yes,  even  my  old  friend  calls 
it  that  —  and  yet,"  he  leaned  forward,  letting  his  face 
sink  into  his  hands,  "  it  is  not  what  I  want.     I  care 


THE    GARDEN    OF    SHADOWS    335 

not  one  jot  for  all  the  politics  in  the  world.  What 
I  love  best  is  the  work  here  in  a  restricted  field  where 
I  am  so  close  to  those  I  help.  Can't  you  see  it  as  I 
do,  Natalia?  I  feel  that  every  man  whose  life  I  save 
and  start  on  a  new  course  of  living  in  which  he  realizes 
his  sin,  and  through  repentance  gains  the  true  light  — 
can't  you  see  that  such  work  is  greater  than  all  the 
arguments  of  government,  the  discussions  of  tariff,  the 
settling  of  bank  questions,  all  the  impersonal  work  that 
goes  to  make  up  the  life  of  a  public  man?  " 

Natalia  had  turned  towards  him  as  he  talked  on, 
watching  the  glow  of  enthusiasm  in  his  eyes,  and 
gradually  feeling  the  force  of  his  magnetism  sweep 
over  her.  Unconsciously  her  lips  parted  in  her  intent- 
ness,  while  she  listened  spellbound  to  the  controlling 
influences  of  his  life. 

"  You  make  me  feel  that  religion  and  law  are  the 
same,"  she  said,  when  he  paused  for  a  moment's  rest. 

"  They  are  the  same.  All  our  laws  have  their  foun- 
dation in  the  word  of  God.  No  law  without  that  basis 
is  worthy  of  consideration.  My  first  case  taught  me 
that,  when  I  convicted  Jacob  Phelps;  and  ever  since, 
when  I  see  a  man  condemned  to  death,  I  feel  all  the 
suffering  I  endured  the  day  he  was  sent  to  jail.  I 
always  feel  an  irresistible  desire  to  rise  up  and  cry  out 
to  leave  vengeance  to  God.  And  now,"  his  voice  deep- 
ened vibrantly,  "  when  a  man  comes  to  me  and  asks 
me  to  defend  him  for  some  crime,  I  feel  a  wonderful 
inspiration  all  through  the  work.  The  greater  the 
crime  the  greater  seems  my  inspiration,  for  out  of  the 
depths  of  the  deed,  I  see  the  man's  awakening,  his 
regeneration,  his  approach  towards  God  —  for  it  is 
only  through  suffering  that  we  attain  the  heights." 


336        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

He  stopped  abruptly,  carried  further  than  he  had 
realized,  by  his  enthusiasm.  When  he  turned  to  Na- 
talia, he  found  her  hand  on  his  arm,  her  eyes  glowing 
into  his. 

"  Do  you  believe  that  ?  Are  you  sure  ?  It  only 
came  to  me  to-day,  that  we  reached  the  heights 
through  suffering."  Her  voice  trembled  as  the  words 
rushed  forth.  "  I  had  always  thought  before  that 
suffering  ruined  everything;  that  life  should  be  made 
up  entirely  of  joy  and  sunshine  and  happiness  —  that 
suffering  would  rob  it  of  its  beauty.  But  in  my  love," 
she  ended  sadly,  "  I  had  hoped  to  escape  it.  I  had 
wanted  that  perfect  —  always." 

"  Perhaps  this  suffering  has  come  to  you,  Natalia, 
to  show  you  how  deep  your  love  for  Morgan  was  — 
how  much  he  meant  to  you.  Perhaps  it  came  to  show 
you  that  —  "  Suddenly  he  stopped  and  turned  away 
from  her  —  changing  his  words  with  a  violent  shifting 
of  thought.  "  Love  is  the  only  unselfish  thing  in  the 
world,"  he  continued,  calm  once  more.  "  Everything 
else  is  but  a  gratification  of  self,  some  suffering  under- 
gone for  an  already  estimated  compensation.  Even 
when  we  lead  good  lives,  refrain  from  sinning,  form 
for  ourselves  strict  codes  of  honour  —  it  is  not  because 
we  wish  to  do  all  those  things ;  it  is  the  eternal  benefit 
which  we  believe  will  be  the  outcome  of  such  a  course. 
The  very  motive  of  the  world  is  selfishness,  and  that 
there  should  be  in  it  such  a  wonderful  thing  as  love, 
is  incomprehensible;  for  in  love  the  ego  is  lost;  we 
feel  only  a  desire  to  make  the  object  of  our  love  happy, 
to  grant  every  wish,  to  anticipate  every  desire ;  and  in 
the  accomplishment  of  this,  every  part  of  selfishness 
is  forgotten.    We  sink  our  being  into  that  other  one. 


THE    GARDEN    OF    SHADOWS    337 

It  is  the  most  beautiful  thing  God  has  given  us,  and 
it  is  the  greatest  sin  of  all;  for  in  it  we  forget  our 
duty  to  our  Creator  —  we  go  directly  against  his  great 
command." 

Natalia  searched  his  face  as  she  listened.  When 
he  had  stopped  and  turned  towards  her,  his  eyes  bent 
upon  her  in  the  great  love  he  had  just  spoken,  the 
blood  rushed  to  her  face,  mounting  higher  and  higher, 
until  it  pounded  in  her  temples.  Still  she  could  not 
turn  from  him.  The  love  in  his  eyes  held  her  pain- 
fully. Words  rushed  to  her  lips.  She  strove  to  hold 
them  back.  Why  should  she  ask  it  of  him?  She 
knew  now  from  his  own  lips.  He  had  told  her  every- 
thing. Again  the  words  cried  out  to  her  for  utterance. 
Her  will  was  as  nothing,  and  she  listened  to  her  own 
voice  when  she  finally  spoke,  as  if  it  came  from  a  great 
distance. 

"  That  is  what  love  means  to  you  ?  " 

He  bowed  his  head  silently. 

"  And  you  find  in  it  a  great  happiness  ?  " 

Her  question  died  unanswered  on  the  quiet  evening. 
Far  down  the  sloping  hill,  on  the  glittering  expanse  of 
water,  the  vague  form  of  a  flat-boat  drifted  by,  a  single 
light  gleaming  at  the  bow.  At  last  Natalia  stirred. 
One  hand  was  pressed  against  her  bosom,  as  she  stared 
straight  out  before  her. 

1  You  make  me  feel  unworthy  all  the  love  that  has 
been  given  me,"  she  said.  "  It  seems  I  have  done 
nothing  for  any  one  —  always  nothing." 

"  Ah,  but  you  have  done  a  great  deal,  Natalia," 
Sargent  answered  quickly.  "  Think  what  you  were 
to  Morgan  in  his  hour  of  adversity.  He  told  me  be- 
fore the  trial   that  without  you  his  life   would  be 


338        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

wrecked.  He  says  you  are  the  only  reason  for  taking 
up  his  life  again.  Is  that  not  a  great  deal?  And 
then,"  his  voice  lowered  and  grew  very  gentle,  "  you 
have  brought  a  great  happiness  into  my  life.  Without 
the  memories  of  our  happy  days  together,  it  would 
have  been  a  very  desolate  old  world  to  me.  I  always 
knew  you  would  not  forget  me  entirely;  a  guiding 
star,  no  matter  how  high  it  soars,  never  forgets  its 
follower.  If  every  man  could  have  a  memory,  as  I 
have  had,  to  guide  him  through  the  pitfalls  and  temp- 
tations of  his  youth,  when  he  is  struggling  on  to  the 
heights  where  character  is  formed,  this  would  be  a 
far  better  world.  My  greatest  efforts  could  never  be 
enough  to  show  what  I  mean  —  Natalia." 

He  waited  for  her  to  speak,  but  no  words  came. 
She  sat  looking  out  into  the  night,  as  if  his  voice  had 
been  unheard.  Her  shawl  had  fallen  to  the  ground 
and  lay  at  her  feet.  Sargent  stooped  and,  picking  it 
up,  held  it  to  his  lips  a  moment. 

"  Our  lives  seem  to  have  grown  very  far  apart," 
he  began  once  more,  attempting  no  longer  to  keep  the 
caressing  notes  from  showing,  "  but  I  want  you  to 
remember  that  I  shall  never  forget  you.  You  believe 
that,  don't  you  ?  There  is  only  one  thing  I  am  going 
to  ask  of  you."  He  paused  and  brushed  his  hand 
across  his  eyes.  "  When  you  and  Morgan  go  back 
home  —  when  you  go  back  to  Boston  to  live,  will  you 
go  some  day  to  see  my  mother  ?  I  should  love  for  her 
to  see  you  once.  She  knows  all  about  you.  I  hardly 
believe  that  you  would  have  to  tell  her  your  name." 

Suddenly,  from  a  distance,  the  sound  of  music 
floated  to  them.  Sargent  lifted  his  head  and  listened'; 
then  stood  up.     "  They  are  coming  for  me,"  he  said, 


THE    GARDEN    OF    SHADOWS    339 

a  great  weariness  creeping  into  his  voice.  "  I  must 
go  back  to  the  town  and  make  my  speech  of  thanks." 

Natalia's  hand  touched  his  arm. 

"  Don't  go  —  yet,"  she  murmured.  "  I  have  some- 
thing to  tell  you." 

Sargent  sat  down  beside  her,  her  hand  still  resting 
on  his  arm.     In  the  dim  light  he  could  see  her  tears: 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  tell  you  —  you  sent  me 
Mammy  Dicey  —  I  can't  thank  you  —  now  you  have 
saved  Morgan  —  " 

The  music  was  coming  nearer.  The  sound  of 
drums  and  fife  throbbed  loudly  in  the  quiet  night. 
Suddenly  the  flare  of  lights  shot  through  the  grove. 
The  torchlight  procession  had  reached  the  gate,  and 
now  many  voices  were  calling  loudly  for  their  new 
representative. 

Natalia  stopped  in  the  midst  of  her  words.  A 
streak  of  light  from  one  of  the  torches  fell  full  upon 
Sargent's  face,  in  which  she  saw  with  pitiless  detail 
the  signs  of  his  great  renunciation.  In  the  knowledge 
her  heart  grew  cold  and  still.  She  moved  nearer  him, 
and  held  out  both  her  hands.  For  a  little  while  they 
stood  thus,  each  meeting  the  other's  glance  steadily. 
"  When  you  were  a  little  girl,  Natalia,"  Sargent  said 
tentatively,  his  words  a  whisper,  "  I  always  kissed  you 
when  I  went  away." 

She  leaned  toward  him,  and  in  her  uplifted  face 
he  read  her  answer.  Putting  his  hands  gently  on  her 
hair  and  pressing  back  the  heavy  coils,  he  kissed  her 
on  the  brow. 

Another  loud  cry  from  the  impatient  crowd,  and 
the  gates  were  thrown  open  and  the  grounds  bril- 
liantly illuminated  by  the  torches. 


340        THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

Natalia  stood  where  he  had  left  her,  watching  him 
walk  towards  the  crowd,  his  head  held  high,  his  figure 
outlined  against  the  flaring  torches.  For  a  few  mo- 
ments she  stood  motionless,  then  going  swiftly 
through  the  garden  to  the  back  veranda,  she  went 
up-stairs  without  meeting  any  one. 

When  she  had  reached  the  upper  hall,  the  hur- 
rahs and  loud  cheering  of  the  crowd  floated  up  to 
her  through  the  open  windows.  Hesitating  a  mo- 
ment, she  finally  went  to  the  door  leading  on  the 
balcony,  and  stood  looking  down  upon  the  gather- 
ing. 

Directly  in  front  of  the  house  the  crowd  was  form- 
ing into  a  line.  The  band  was  already  at  the  gate, 
closely  following  came  the  torch  bearers,  and  last  of 
all  a  carriage.  She  leaned  forward,  shading  her  eyes 
from  the  flickering  illumination.  He  was  in  the  car- 
riage now,  on  the  back  seat,  and  beside  him  sat  an 
old,  grizzled-haired  man,  whose  weather-beaten,  joy- 
ful countenance  beamed  upon  Sargent  in  his  hour  of 
triumph. 

As  she  watched  them  the  signal  was  given,  the 
drums  beat  a  resounding  tattoo,  the  fife  took  up  the 
melody,  and  the  parade  began  to  move.  Through  the 
gate  they  went  and  out  into  the  road,  where  the  sounds 
gradually  grew  muffled  and  the  flaring  torches,  gleam- 
ing through  the  trees,  became  faint  as  fireflies.  At 
last  the  drum  sounded  in  a  faint  echo ;  then  the  night 
grew  once  more  dark  and  still. 

A  hand  grasped  Natalia's.  Starting,  she  turned 
and  found  Morgan's  arm  about  her. 

"  We  have  been  searching  for  you  everywhere, 
dearest,"  he  said,  looking  down  into  her  face,  his 


THE    GARDEN    OF    SHADOWS    341 

smile  suddenly  fading  when  he  saw  the  tears  in  her 
eyes.    "  Sargent  told  me  he  had  seen  you." 

In  the  silence  that  was  deepening  about  them,  Mor- 
gan gazed  intently  at  Natalia.  Once  he  brushed  his 
hands  before  his  eyes  as  if  clearing  away  a  mist;  then 
his  arms  tightened  about  Natalia  as  she  lowered  her 
head  on  his  shoulder. 

"  I  am  beginning  to  understand,  Natalia/'  he  said, 
his  voice  breaking  with  emotion.  "  It  was  all  for 
your  sake  —  for  your  happiness  —  what  he  has 
done ! " 

"  For  our  happiness,  Morgan,"  Natalia  answered, 
the  tears  streaming  down  her  face.  "  He  has  brought 
you  back  to  me  —  he  has  saved  our  love." 

For  a  while  they  stood  thus,  looking  out  into  the 
quiet  night,  her  head  upon  his  shoulder,  his  arm  about 
her.  "  And,  oh,  Morgan,"  Natalia  finally  spoke,  her 
eyes  deepening  with  the  glow  of  an  inward  light,  "  I 
can  hear  it  still  —  the  music  of  his  voice,"  her  words 
sank  to  a  whisper,  "  it  seems  to  me  it  will  always  be 
ringing  in  my  ears  —  always  —  always." 


THE   END. 


From 

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KILMENY    OF    THE    ORCHARD 

By  L.  M.  Montgomery,  author  of  the  "  delightful  and  irresist- 
ible Anne  books,"    "  Anne  of  Green  Gables  "  and  "  Anne  of 
Avonlea." 
Cloth  decorative,  with  four  full-page  illustrations  in  color  by 

George  Gibbs $1.25 

Miss  Montgomery's  new  book  —  a  charming  love  story  — 
has  again  for  its  setting  the  author's  favorite  Prince  Edward 
Island.  Kilmeny  Gordon,  the  heroine,  is  certain  to  prove  as 
dear  to  the  hearts  of  old  and  young  readers  alike  as  did  her 
predecessor,  Anne  Shirley,  "  the  dearest  and  most  moving  and 
delightful  child  since  the  immortal  Alice,"  according  to  Mark 
Twain. 

The  following  quotation  from  one  of  the  early  chapters  will  be 
sufficient  to  give  a  clue  to  the  story. 

"  Under  the  big  branching  white  lilac  tree  was  an  old,  sagging 
wooden  bench;  and  on  this  bench  a  girl  was  sitting  playing  an 
old  brown  violin.  Her  eyes  were  on  the  faraway  horizon  and 
she  did  not  see  Eric.  For  a  few  moments  he  stood  there  and 
looked  at  her.  ...  To  his  latest  day  Eric  Marshall  will  be  able 
to  recall  vividly  that  scene  as  he  saw  it  then  —  the  velvet  dark- 
ness of  the  spruce  woods,  the  overarching  sky  of  soft  brilliance, 
the  swaying  lilac  blossoms  —  and  amid  it  all  the  girl  on  the  old 
bench  with  the  violin  under  her  chin.  .  .  .  Her  loveliness  was 
so  perfect  that  his  breath  almost  went  from  him  in  his  first 
delight  of  it.  Her  face  was  oval,  marked  in  every  cameo-like 
line  and  feature  with  that  expression  of  absolute  flawless  purity 
found  in  the  angels  and  Madonnas  of  old  paintings  —  a  purity 
that  held  in  it  no  faintest  stain  of  earthliness.  .  .  .  There  was 
something  very  child-like  about  her  and  yet  at  least  eighteen 
sweet  years  must  have  gone  to  the  making  of  her." 


L.   C.  PAGE   &    COMPANY'S 


COMMENCEMENT    DAYS 

By  Virginia  Church. 

12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated  .        .        .  $1.50 

Mrs.  Church's  new  college  story  is  based  on  the  well-known 
play  of  the  same  name  wnich  had  such  a  successful  run  last 
season,  and  it  is  hard  to  imagine  a  more  truthful  picture  of 
college  life  than  is  here  depicted.  It  all  happens  at  that  most 
interesting  time  of  the  college  girl's  career,  Commencement 
Season,  which  brings  with  it  a  round  of  receptions,  parties, 
coaching  expeditions,  Junior  Proms,  fudge  feasts,  and  the 
happiest  and  merriest  of  times. 

There  are  girls  and  girls,  scores  of  them,  all  through  the  tale, 
and  all  interesting  ones,  too  —  there's  Kate  Wells,  the  most 
popular  girl  of  the  college,  and  Lorraine,  her  chum,  quiet,  digni- 
fied and  sweet,  who  plays  the  role  of  an  indulgent  sister.  And 
there's  the  twins;  who  really  ought  not  to  be  twins  at  all,  their 
tastes  are  so  unlike,  one  preferring  men,  and  the  other  sports, 
not  to  mention  the  slangy,  masculine  girl,  who  goes  in  for 
athletics,  and  the  dainty  little  college  flirt. 

Of  course  there  couldn't  be  any  plot  if  a  man  were  not  allowed 
to  enter  in,  and  as  Penny,  the  roly-poly  Freshman,  observes  — 
"  It's  nice  to  see  trousers  around  sometimes,  anyway  "  —  some 
mighty  nice  chaps  are  allowed  to  enter  on  the  scene.  Then 
there  are  three  distinct  love  affairs  in  the  plot,  all  in  admirable 
contrast. 

Girls  who  are  in  school  and  college  will  find  in  "  Commence- 
ment Days  "  types  that  they  have  known  among  their  own 
classmates,  graduates  will  pick  out  old  friends,  and  older  women, 
whose  school  days  are  among  their  sweetest  memories,  will  find 
that  girl  nature  is  much  the  same  in  this  day  as  it  was  in  theirs. 


MY   HEART    AND    STEPHANIE 

By  Reginald  Wright  Kauffman,  author  of  "  Miss  Frances 

Baird,  Detective,"  etc. 

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A  goodly  tale  of  love  and  mystery,  with  the  scenes  for  the 
most  part  laid  in  New  York  and  Paris,  dealing  with  the  intrigues 
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around  the  Countess  Stephanie,  a  Polish  conspirator,  and  con- 
tinues also  the  stirring  career  of  the  American  girl,  Frances 
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A    CAVALIER    OF    VIRGINIA 

By  G.  E.  Theodore  Roberts,  author  of  "  Hemming,  the 

Adventurer,"  "  Captain  Love,"  etc. 

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Theodore  Roberts  is  one  of  the  younger  writers  of  to-day 
whom  the  critics  have  been  watching  with  interest,  as  he  is  a 
born  story-teller  and  the  possessor  of  an.  unusually  fine  literary 
style. 

The  scene  of  his  present  story  is  laid  in  the  old  chivalric  days 
of  colonial  Virginia,  although  part  of  the  action  takes  place 
upon  the  high  seas,  and  the  scene  shifts  for  a  short  time  to 
England,  Spain  and  to  the  unsettled  parts  of  North  America. 

The  story  develops  the  boy  and  girl  love  affair  of  the  Cavalier 
and  a  typical  Southern  beauty,  Isobel  Dariza.  The  characters 
are  admirably  drawn  and  the  reader  follows  with  breathless 
interest  the  adventures  of  Francis  Drurie,  the  Cavalier,  through 
his  stirring  adventures  on  land  and  sea. 

M  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia  "  is  easily  the  finest  story  Mr.  Roberts 
has  yet  given  the  reading  public,  and  is  assured  great  popular 
success. 

THE    COURT    OF    LUCIFER 

By  Nathan  Gallizier,  author  of  "  Castel  del  Monte,"  "  The 
Sorceress  of  Rome."  etc. 

With  four  illustrations  in  full  color  by  the  Kinneys     .      $1.50 

Mr.  Gallizier's  new  book,  completing  his  Italian  trilogy,  of 
which  "  Castel  del  Monte  "  and  "  The  Sorceress  of  Rome  " 
have  already  been  published,  is  a  brilliant  historical  romance 
woven  around  the  famous  and  notorious  Borgia  family,  the  main 
theme  touching  upon  the  perfidy  and  cunning  of  Cesare  Borgia, 
that  brilliant  and  unprincipled  son  of  Pope  Alexander  VI. 

Mr.  Gallizier  has  chosen  a  most  interesting  field  for  his  his- 
torical romances,  and  in  his  new  book  he  tells  with  vividness 
and  daring  of  the  glamour  and  stir  of  the  old  days  in  Rome,  the 
corruption  of  church  and  state,  and  the  subsequent  downfall  of 
"  The  Imperial  City." 

Of  "  Castel  del  Monte"  and  "The  Sorceress  of  Rome"  the  critics 
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"The  author  displays  many  of  the  talents  that  made  Scott 
famous." — The  Index. 

"  There  is  color,  there  is  sumptuous  word-painting  in  these 
pages;  the  action  is  terrific  at  times;  vividness  and  life  are  in 
every  part;  and  brilliant  descriptions  entertain  the  reader  and 
give  a  singular  fascination  to  the  tale."  —  Grand  Rapids  Herald. 


L.  C.  PAGE   <5r*    COMPANY'S 


A    SOLDIER    OF    THE    REVOLUTION 

By  Robert  Neilson  Stephens,  author  of  "An  Enemy  to 
the  King,"  "  Philip  Winwood,"  etc.,  and  G.  E.  Theodore 
Roberts,  author  of  "  Hemming,  the  Adventurer,"  "  Captain 
Love,"  etc. 

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The  many  admirers  of  the  brilliant  historical  romances  of  the 
late  Robert  Neilson  Stephens  will  be  gratified  at  the  announce- 
ment of  a  posthumous  work  by  that  gifted  writer.  The  rough 
draft  of  the  story  was  laid  aside  for  other  work,  and  later,  with- 
out completing  the  novel,  the  plot  was  utilized  for  a  play.  With 
the  play  completed  Mr.  Stephens  again  turned  his  attention  to 
the  novel,  but  death  prevented  its  completion.  Mr.  Roberts 
has  handled  his  difficult  task  of  completing  the  work  with  care 
and  skill. 

The  story,  like  that  of  "  The  Continental  Dragoon,"  takes  as 
its  theme  an  incident  in  the  Revolution,  and,  as  in  the  earlier 
novel,  the  scene  is  the  "  debatable  ground  "  north  of  New  York. 
In  interest  of  plot  and  originality  of  development  it  is  as  remark- 
able as  the  earlier  work,  but  it  is  more  mature,  more  forceful, 
more  real. 


THE    LEAD    OF    HONOUR 

By  Norval  Richardson. 

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If  this  book  is  a  criterion  of  what  is  to  come,  Mr.  Richardson 
will  take  high  rank  among  American  novelists.  His  writing  has 
a  beauty  of  phrase,  a  poetry  of  expression  that  is  unusual,  and 
joined  to  this  is  directness  and  power. 

His  plot  is  well  conceived  and  well  executed  and  his  characters 
are  living,  breathing  men  and  women  whose  fortunes  are  fol- 
lowed with  ever  deepening  interest. 

The  scene  of  the  story  is  Natchez,  Miss.,  in  about  1830,  and 
the  central  character  is  Sargent  Everett,  a  young  lawyer,  in 
whom  many  will  recognize  a  portrait  of  the  Hon.  Seargent 
Prentiss.  Indeed  many  of  the  incidents  of  the  story  are  drawn 
from  the  early  life  of  that  prominent  statesman  and  silver- 
tongued  orator. 

Young  Everett's  struggle  for  recognition,  his  final  success,  his 
brilliant  progress  in  his  profession,  are  matters  of  absorbing 
interest.  His  love,  his  hope,  his  struggle  with  self,  his  temptation, 
and  his  renunciation,  and  always  his  steadfast  following  of  the 
lead  of  honor,  form  the  theme  of  this  remarkable  novel. 


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HELL-FIRE  HARRISON 

By  W.  D.  Wattles 

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Frank  T.  Merrill $1.00 

The  scene  of  this  stirring  story  is  laid  in  England  during  the 
reign  of  George  III.,  when  atheism  held  full  sway.  The  princi- 
pal characters  are  two  Virginians,  father  and  son,  the  elder  of 
whom  answers  to  the  sobriquet  of  "  Hell-fire  Harrison."  so-called 
because  he  founded  the  first  Hell-fire  Club  of  Virginia. 

The  return  to  "  merrie  England  "  of  Harrison  with  his  son, 
after  an  absence  of  thirty  years,  the  thrilling  adventures  that 
followed  this  return,  the  intermingling  of  a  sweet  romance,  and 
the  intensely  dramatic  denouement  are  all  so  cleverly  depicted 
by  this  graceful  writer  that  the  story  is  bound  to  leave  a  lasting 
impression. 

Lovers  of  history,  as  well  as  the  general  reader,  will  find  this 
story  of  absorbing  interest,  as  the  manners,  customs,  the  history 
and  the  religion  of  the  period  are  set  forth  in  a  way  that  proves 
extremely  fascinating. 


Selections  from 
L.  C.  Page  and  Company's 
List  of  Fiction 

WORKS  OF 

ROBERT  NEILSON  STEPHENS 

Each  one  vol.,  library  12mo,  cloth  decorative  .         .       $1.50 

THE  FLIGHT  OF  GEORGIANA 

A  Romance  of  the  Days  of  the  Young  Pretender.  Illus- 
trated by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

"  A  love-story  in  the  highest  degree,  a  dashing  story,  and  a  re- 
markably well  finished  piece  of  work."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

THE  BRIGHT  FACE  OF  DANGER 

Being  an  account  of  some  adventures  of  Henri  de  Launay,  son 
of  the  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire.  Illustrated  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 
"  Mr.  Stephens  has  fairly  outdone  himself.     We  thank  him 

heartily.    The  story  is  nothing  if  not  spirited  and  entertaining, 

rational  and  convincing."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

THE  MYSTERY  OF  MURRAY  DAVENPORT 

(40th  thousand.) 

"  This  is  easily  the  best  thing  that  Mr.  Stephens  has  yet  done. 
Those  familiar  with  his  other  novels  can  best  judge  the  measure 
of  this  praise,  which  is  generous."  —  Buffalo  News. 

CAPTAIN  RAVENSHAW 

Or,  The  Maid  of  Cheapside.  (52d  thousand.)  A  romance 
of  Elizabethan  London.  Illustrations  by  Howard  Pyle  and 
other  artists. 

Not  since  the  absorbing  adventures  of  D'Artagnan  have  we  had 
anything  so  good  in  the  blended  vein  of  romance  and  comedy. 

THE  CONTINENTAL  DRAGOON 

A  Romance   of  Philipse   Manor   House   in   1778.     (63d 
thousand.)    Illustrated  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 
A  stirring  romance  of  the  Revolution,  with  its  scenes  laid  on 
neutral  territory. 


L.   C.  PAG*  &  COMPANY'S 


PHILIP  WINWOOD 

(70th  thousand.)  A  Sketch  of  the  Domestic  History  of  an 
American  Captain  in  the  War  of  Independence,  embracing 
events  that  occurred  between  and  during  the  years  1763  and 
1785  in  New  York  and  London.  Illustrated  by  E.  W.  D 
Hamilton. 

AN  ENEMY  TO  THE  KING 

(70th  thousand.)  From  the  "  Recently  Discovered  Memoin 
of  the  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire."  Illustrated  by  H.  De  M.  Young. 
An  historical  romance  of  the  sixteenth  century,  describing  the 

adventures  of  a  young  French  nobleman  at  the  court  of  Henry 

III.,  and  on  the  field  with  Henry  IV. 

THE  ROAD  TO  PARIS 

A  Story  of  Adventure.     (35th  thousand.)     Illustrated  b> 

H.  C.  Edwards. 

An  historical  romance  of  the  eighteenth  century,  being  an 
account  of  the  life  of  an  American  gentleman  adventurer  of 
Jacobite  ancestry. 

A  GENTLEMAN  PLAYER 

His  Adventures  on  a  Secret  Mission  for  Queen  Eliza- 
beth.    (48th  thousand.)     Illustrated  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 
The  story  of  a  young  gentleman  who  joins  Shakespeare's  com- 
pany of  players,  and  becomes  a  friend  and  protegS  of  the  great 
poet. 

CLEMENTINA'S  HIGHWAYMAN 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated $1.50 

Mr.  Stephens  has  put  into  his  new  book,  "  Clementina's  High- 
wayman/' the  finest  qualities  of  plot,  construction,  and  literary 
finish. 

The  story  is  laid  in  the  mid-Georgian  period.  It  is  a  dashing, 
■parkling,  vivacious  comedy,  with  a  heroine  as  lovely  and 
changeable  as  an  April  day,  and  a  hero  all  ardor  and  daring. 

TALES  FROM  BOHEMIA 

Illustrated  by  Wallace  Goldsmith. 

("loth,  decorative  cover $1.50 

These  bright  and  clever  tales  deal  with  people  of  the  theatre 
and  odd  characters  in  other  walks  of  life  which  fringe  on  Bohemia 


LIST  OF  FICTION 


WORKS  OF 

CHARLES  G.  D.  ROBERTS 

HAUNTERS  OF  THE  SILENCES 

Cloth,  one  volume,  with  many  drawings  by  Charles  Livingston 
Bull,  four  of  which  are  in  full  color         .        .        .  $2.00 

The  stories  in  Mr.  Roberts's  new  collection  are  the  strongest  and 
best  he  has  ever  written. 

He  has  largely  taken  for  his  subjects  those  animals  rarely  met 
with  in  books,  whose  lives  are  spent  "  In  the  Silences,"  where  they 
are  the  supreme  rulers.  Mr.  Roberts  has  written  of  them  sympa- 
thetically, as  always,  but  with  fine  regard  for  the  scientific  truth. 
"  As  a  writer  about  animals,  Mr.  Roberts  occupies  an  enviable 
place.  He  is  the  most  literary,  as  well  as  the  most  imaginative 
and  vivid  of  all  the  nature  writers."  —  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

RED  FOX 

The  Story  of  His  Adventurous  Career  in  the  Ringwaak 
Wilds,  and  of  His  Final  Triumph  over  the  Enemies  of 
His  Kind.    With  fifty  illustrations,  including  frontispiece  in 
color  and  cover  design  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull. 
Square  quarto,  cloth  decorative       .  .        .  $2.00 

14  True  in  substance  but  fascinating  as  fiction.  It  will  interest 
old  and  young,  city-bound  and  free-footed,  those  who  know  ani- 
mals ana  those  who  do  not."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

"  A  brilliant  chapter  in  natural  history."  —  Philadelphia  North 
American. 

THE  KINDRED  OF  THE  WILD 

A  Book  of  Animal  Life.    With  fifty-one  full-page  plates  and 
many  decorations  from  drawings  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull. 

Square  quarto,  decorative  cover $2.00 

"  Is  in  many  ways  the  most  brilliant  collection  of  animal  stories 
that  has  appeared;  well  named  and  well  done."  —  John  Bur- 
roughs. 

THE  WATCHERS  OF  THE  TRAILS 

A  companion  volume  to  "  The  Kindred  of  the  Wild."    With 
forty-eight  full-page  plates  and  many  decorations  from  draw- 
-     ings  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull. 

Square  quarto,  decorative  cover $2.00 


L.  C.  PAGE  <5r»  COMPANY'S 


"  These  stories  are  exquisite  in  their  refinement,  and  yet  robust 
in  their  appreciation  of  some  of  the  rougher  phases  of  woodcraft. 
Among  the  many  writers  about  animals,  Mr.  Roberts  occupies  an 
enviable  place. " —  The  Outlook. 

"  This  is  a  book  full  of  delight.  An  additional  charm  lies  in  Mr. 
Bull's  faithful  and  graphic  illustrations,  which  in  fashion  all  their 
own  tell  the  story  of  the  wild  life,  illuminating  and  supplementing 
the  pen  pictures  of  the  author."  —  Literary  Digest. 

THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WATER 

With  thirty  full-page  illustrations  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull 
and  Frank  Vining  Smith.  Cover  design  and  decorations  by 
Charles  Livingston  Bull. 

12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

"  Every  paragraph  is  a  splendid  picture,  suggesting  in  a  few 

words  the  appeal  of  the  vast,   illimitable  wilderness."  —  The 

Chicago  Tribune. 

THE  HEART  THAT  KNOWS 

Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover   .        .        .        .      $1.50 

"  A  novel  of  singularly  effective  strength,  luminous  in  literary 

color,  rich  in  its  passionate,  yet  tender  drama." — New  York  Globe. 

EARTH'S  ENIGMAS 

A  new  edition  of  Mr.  Roberts's  first  volume  of  fiction,  pub- 
lished in  1892,  and  out  of  print  for  several  years,  with  the  addi- 
tion of  three  new  stories,  and  ten  illustrations  by  Charles 
Livingston  Bull. 

Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover   .        .        .  $1.50 

"  It  will  rank  high  among  collections  of  short  stories.  In 
1  Earth's  Enigmas  '  is  a  wider  range  of  subject  than  in  the  '  Kin- 
dred of  the  Wild.'  "  —  Review  from  advance  sheets  of  the  illustrated 
edition  by  Tiffany  Blake  in  the  Chicago  Evening  Post. 

BARBARA  LADD 

With  four  illustrations  by  Frank  Verbeck. 

Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover  .  $1.50 

"  From  the  opening  chapter  to  the  final  page  Mr.  Roberts  lures 

us  on  by  his  rapt  devotion  to  the  changing  aspects  of  Nature  and 

by  his  keen  and  sympathetic  analysis  of  human  character."  — 

Boston  Transcript. 


LIST  OF  FICTION 


CAMERON    OF    LOCHIEL 

Translated  from  the  French  of  Philippe  Aubert  de  Gasp  6,  with 

frontispiece  in  color  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

"  Professor  Roberts  deserves  the  thanks  of  his  reader  for  giving 
a  wider  audience  an  opportunity  to  enjoy  this  striking  bit  of 
French  Canadian  literature."  —  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

THE    PRISONER    OF    MADEMOISELLE 

With  frontispiece  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

A  tale  of  Acadia,  —  a  land  which  is  the  author's  heart's  delight, 

—  of  a  valiant  young  lieutenant  and  a  winsome  maiden,  who  first 

captures  and  then  captivates. 

THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANCIENT  WOOD 

With  six  illustrations  by  James  L.  Weston. 

Library  12mo,  decorative  cover       .....      $1.50 

"  One  of  the  most  fascinating  novels  of  recent  days."  —  Boston 
Journal. 

"  A  classic  twentieth-century  romance."  —  New  York  Commer- 
cial Advertiser. 

THE    FORGE    IN    THE    FOREST 

Being  the  Narrative  of  the  Acadian  Ranger,  Jean  de  Mer, 
Seigneur  de  Briart,  and  how  he  crossed  the  Black  Abb£,  and 
of  his  adventures  in  a  strange  fellowship*  Illustrated  by  Henry 
Sandham,  R.  C.  A. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative  .  .  »  .  .  $1.50 
A  story  of  pure  love  and  heroic  adventure. 

BY    THE    MARSHES    OF    MINAS 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated  .  .  $1.50 
Most  of  these  romances  are  in  the  author's  lighter  and  more 

playful  vein;   each  is  a  unit  of  absorbing  interest  and  exquisite 

workmanship. 

A    SISTER    TO    EVANGELINE 

Being  the  Story  of  Yvonne  de  Lamourie,  and  how  she  went  into 
exile  with  the  villagers  of  Grand  Pre\ 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated    .       .       .       $1.50 
^  Swift  action,  fresh  atmosphere,  wholesome  purity,  deep  pas- 
sion, and  searching  analysis  characterize  this  strong  novel. 


L.  C.  PAGE   <&-    COMPANY'S 


WORKS  OF 

L.  M,  MONTGOMERY 

ANNE    OF    GREEN    GABLES 

Illustrated  by  M.  A.  and  W.  A.  J.  Claus.     12mo         .      $1.50 

"  Anne  of  Green  Gables  "  is  beyond  question  the  most  popular 
girl  heroine  in  recent  years.  Poets,  statesmen,  humorists,  critics, 
and  the  great  public  have  lost  their  hearts  to  the  charming  Anne. 
"  Anne  of  Green  Gables  "  is  not  a  book  of  a  season,  to  attain  a 
wide  popularity  for  a  brief  space  and  sink  into  oblivion  with  many 
another  "  best  seller,"  but  its  literary  merit  is  such  that  it  is 
bound  to  have  a  permanent  place  in  literature  and  continue  to 
increase  in  popularity  with  each  succeeding  season. 

"  In  '  Anne  of  Green  Gables  '  you  will  find  the  dearest  and  most 
moving  and  delightful  child  since  the  immortal  Alice."  —  Mark 
Twain  in  a  letter  to  Francis  Wilson. 

"  I  can  hardly  tell  you  how  much  I  enjoyed  the  book,  and  I  can 
heartily  recommend  it  to  my  friends  who  are  not  ashamed  when 
from  time  to  time  they  find  the  eves  suffuse  and  the  page  grow 
blurred  at  the  pathos  of  the  story. '  —  Sir  Louis  H.  Davies  of  the 
Supreme  Court  of  Canada. 

ANNE    OF    AVONLEA 

Illustrated  by  George  Gibbs.     12mo      .       .       .  $1.50 

In  this  volume  Anne  is  as  fascinating  as  ever,  and  the  author 
has  introduced  several  new  characters,  including  the  highly 
imaginative  and  charming  little  boy,  Paul  Irving,  whose  quaint 
sayings  will  recall  to  the  reader  the  delightful  Anne  on  her  first 
appearance  at  Green  Gables 

"  Here  we  have  a  book  as  human  as  'David  Harum,'  a  heroine 
who  outcharms  a  dozen  princesses  of  fiction,  and  reminds  you 
of  some  sweet  girl  you  know,  or  knew  back  in  the  days  when  the 
world  was  young  and  you  threw  away  your  sponge  that  you 
might  have  to  borrow  hers  to  clean  your  slate."  —  San  Francisco 
Bulletin. 

"  A  book  to  lift  the  spirit  and  send  the  pessimist  into  bank- 
ruptcy! "  —  Meredith  Nicholson. 

"  The  tale,  with  its  recurrent  romance,  pathos  and  humor,  is 
as  fresh  and  wholesome  as  crisp  autumn  breezes,  while  the  simple 
Canadian  characters  have  a  modest  charm  all  their  own."  — 
Chicago  Record-Herald. 


LIST  OF  FICTION 


WORKS  OF 

LILIAN  BELL 

CAROLINA    LEE 

With  a  frontispiece  in  color  by  Dora  Wheeler  Keith. 
Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover       ....   $1.50 
"  A  charming  portrayal  of  the  attractive  life  of  the  South, 

refreshing  as  a  breeze  that  blows  through  a  pine  forest."  — 

Albany  Times-Union. 

HOPE    LORING 

Illustrated  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 

Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover    .       .        ,  $1.50 

11  Tall,  slender,  and  athletic,  fragile-looking,  yet  with  nerves 

and  sinews  of  steel  under  the  velvet  flesh,  frank  as  a  boy  and 

tender  and  beautiful  as  a  woman,  free  and  independent,  yet  not 

bold  —  such  is  '  Hope  Loring.'  "  —  Dorothy  Dix. 

ABROAD    WITH    THE    JIMMIES 

With  a  portrait  in  duogravure,  of  the  author. 

Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover    .        .        .        .      $1.50 

"  Full  of  ozone,  of  snap,  of  ginger,  of  swing  and  momentum." 

—  Chicago  Evening  Post. 

AT   HOME    WITH    THE    JARDINES 

Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover  .  .  .  .  $1.50 
"  Bits  of  gay  humor,  sunny,  whimsical  philosophy,  and  keen 
indubitable  insight  into  the  less  evident  aspects  and  workings 
of  pure  human  nature,  with  a  slender  thread  of  a  cleverly 
extraneous  love  story,  keep  the  interest  of  the  reader  fresh."  — 
Chicago  Record-Herald. 

THE    CONCENTRATIONS    OF    BEE 

With  colored  frontispiece. 

Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover    .        .        .  $1.50 

"  One  of  the  cleverest  women  writers  of  fiction  is  Lilian  Bell. 

She  belongs  to  the  younger  class,  old  enough  to  have  experience, 

but  not  old  enough  to  have  lost  the  saving  grace  of  enthusiasm." 

—  Los  Angeles  Express. 

THE     INTERFERENCE     OF     PATRICIA    AND    A 
BOOK    OF    GIRLS 

With  a  frontispiece  from  drawing  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 
Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover    .        .        .        .      $1.50 
"Lilian  Bell  surely  understands  girls,  for  she  depicts  all  the 
variations  of  girl  nature  so  charmingly."  —  Chicago  Journal. 


L    C.  PAGE  <5f    COMPANY'S 


WORKS    OF 

MORLEY  ROBERTS 

RACHEL    MARR 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

"  A  novel  of  tremendous  force."  —  Elia  W.  Peaitie 
"  In  atmosphere,  if  nothing  else,  the  story  is  absolutely  per- 
fect." —  Boston  Transcript. 

LADY    PENELOPE 

With  nine  illustrations  by  Arthur  W.  Brown. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

"  A  fresh  and  original  bit  of  comedy  as  amusing  as  it  is  auda- 
cious." —  Boston  Transcript. 

THE    IDLERS 

With  frontispiece  in  color  by  John  C.  Frohn. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative       .  .  .      $1.50 

u  It  is  as  absorbing  as  the  devil."  —  The  New  York  Sun. 

THE  PROMOTION  OF  THE  ADMIRAL 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated   .        .        .      $1.50 

14  If  any  one  writes  better  sea  stories  than  Mr.  Roberts,  we 

don't  know  who  it  is;  and  if  there  is  a  better  sea  story  of  its  kind 

than  this  it  would  be  a  joy  to  have  the  pleasure  of  reading  it."  — 

New  York  Sun. 

THE    FLYING    CLOUD 

Cloth  decorative,  with  a  colored  frontispiece        .        .      $1.50 
"It  is  the  drama  of  the  sea:  human  nature  stripped  naked 

by  salt  water  alchemy  and  painted  as  only  the  author  or  Joseph 

Conrad  could  paint  it." — New  York  Times. 

THE    BLUE    PETER 

With  frontispiece  by  Henry  Roth. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

"  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  of  Morley  Roberts  that  he  is  one  of 

the  very  few  writers  of  to-day  who  live  up  to  the  best  traditions 

of  the  sea  story."  —  The  Bookman. 

DAVID    BRAN 

Cloth  decorative,  with  frontispiece  in  color   .        .        .      $1.50 
In  "  David  Bran  "  Mr.  Roberts  presents  in  a  new  light  the  old 
story  of  a  man  and  two  women. 


LIST  OF  FICTION 


WORKS  OF 

ALICE  MacGOWAN  AND  GRACE  Mac- 
GOWAN  COOKE 

RETURN 

With  six  illustrations  by  C.  D.  Williams. 
Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative       .        .  .        .      $1.50 

"  So  rich  in  color  is  this  story,  so  crowded  with  figures,  it  seems 
like  a  bit  of  old  Italian  wall  painting."  —  New  York  Sun. 

THE    GRAPPLE 

With  frontispiece  in  color  by  Arthur  W.  Brown. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

"  The  story  is  so  original,  so  strong,  and  so  finely  told  that  it 
deserves  a  large  and  thoughtful  public."  —  N.    Y.   Times. 

THE    LAST    WORD 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated   .        .        .      $1.50 
"  When  one  receives  full  measure  to  overflowing  of  delight  in  a 
tender,  charming,  and  wholly  fascinating  new  piece  of  fiction,  the 
enthusiasm  is  apt  to  come  uppermost." — Louisville  Post. 

HULDAH 

With  illustrations  by  Fanny  Y.  Cory. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

Here  we  have  the  great-hearted,  capable  woman  of  the  Texas 
plains.  Her  sympathy  takes  the  form  of  happy  laughter,  and 
her  delightfully  funny  phrases  amuse  the  fancy. 

WORKS  OF 

NATHAN  GALLIZffiR 

THE    SORCERESS    OF    ROME 

With  four  drawings  in  color  by  "  The  Kinneys." 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

The  love-story  of  Otto  III.,  the  boy  emperor,  and  Stephania, 
wife  of  the  Senator  Crescentius  of  Rome. 

CASTEL    DEL    MONTE 

With  six  illustrations  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative      ....  $1.50 

A  powerful  romance  of  the  fall  of  the  Hohenstaufen  dynasty  in 

Italy  and  the  overthrow  of  Manfred  by  Charles  of  Anjou,  the 

champion  of  Pope  Clement  IV. 


io  L.  C.  PAGE   6»   COMPANY'S 

WORKS  OF 

OTHER  AUTHORS 

A    GENTLEMAN    OF    QUALITY 

By   Frederick   Van   Rensselaer   Dey. 

Cloth  decorative,  with  frontispiece  in  color  .       .       .        $1.50 

"  A  romance  that  is  vivid  and  original.    The  author  shows  a 

great  gift  of  originality  and  dramatic  insight.    It  is  a  story  that 

will  hold  firmly  the  attention  of  even  the  veteran  novel  reader 

to  the  end."  —  The  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

THE  FURTHER  ADVENTURES  OF  QUINCY  ADAMS 
SAWYER  AND  MASON'S  CORNER  FOLKS 

By  Charles   Felton    Pidgin,    author   of   "  Quincy  Adams 
Sawyer,"  "  Blennerhasset, "  "  Stephen  Holton,"  etc. 
Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  Henry  Roth     .  .     $1.50 

"  The  book  is  intensely  human,  bright,  witty,  hopeful,  kindly, 
and  interesting."  —  Christian   Endeavor   World. 

THE    MYSTERY    OF    MISS    MOTTE 

By  Caroline  Atwater  Mason,  author  of  "  A  Lily  of  France." 
Cloth  decorative,    with    frontispiece    in   color    .        .       $1.25 
"It  is  a  clean,    wholesome    story   of  present-day  life,  with 
nothing  far-fetched  or  overdrawn." —  United  Presbyterian. 

"  A  love  story  particularly  neat  and  sweet,  in  which  mystery 
plays  a  part.  Mrs.  Mason  develops  her  romance  skilfully  against 
a  very  pleasant  social  background."  —  New  York  World. 

THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

By  Robert  Lee  Durham. 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  Henry  Roth      .        .        $1.50 

"  '  A  terrific  story  but  a  true  one  '  —  this  is  what  the  thinking 
world  is  saying  concerning  '  The  Call  of  the  South.'  "  —  The 
Baltimore  Sun. 

"  The  force  of  the  book  is  tremendous.  In  dramatic  power  it 
equals  Tolstoi's  'Resurrection.'  "  —  Rev.  Martin  D.  Hardin. 

TAG;   OR,  THE  CHIEN  BOULE  DOG 

By  Valance  Patriarchs. 

Illustrated  by  Wallace  Goldsmith. 

Cloth  decorative $1.00 

"  It  is  fresh  in  plot,  bright  and  merry  in  spirit,  full  of  kindly 
humor  in  style  and  incident."  —  Grand  Rapids  Herald. 

"  The  entire  tale  is  a  delightful  bit  of  humor."  —  Portland 
Press. 


LIST  OF  FICTION  II 

MATTHEW  PORTER 

By  Gamaliel  Bradford,  Jr.,  author  of  "  The  Private  Tutor," 

etc. 

Library  12mo.     With  a  frontispiece  in  color  by  Griswold 

Tyng $1.50 

When  a  young  man  has  birth  and  character  and  strong  ambi- 
tion, it  is  safe  to  predict  for  him  a  brilliant  career;  and  when  The 
Girl  comes  into  his  life,  a  romance  out  of  the  ordinary.  Such  a 
man  is  Matthew  Porter,  and  the  author  has  drawn  him  with  fine 
power. 

"It  is  excellently  well  done  and  unusually  interesting.  The 
incidents  follow  one  another  in  rapid  succession  and  are  kept 
up  to  the  right  pitch  of  interest."  —  A7.  Y.  American. 

BAHAMA  BILL 

By  T.  Jenkins  Hains,  author  of  "  The  Black  Barque," 
"  The  Voyage  of  the  Arrow,"  etc.  With  frontispiece  in  color 
by  H.  R.  Reuterdahl. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

"  As  for  Bahama  Bill,  the  reader  will  like  him  whether  he  will 

or  no;   he  dominates  the  book,  unscrupulous  though  he  may  be. 

Nevertheless  there  is  not  a  mean  streak  in  him.     We  shall  be 

tempted  to  read  '  Bahama  Bill/  several  times."  —  Springfield 

Union. 

CAPTAIN  LOVE 

The  history  of  a  most  romantic  event  in  the  life  of  an  English 
gentleman  during  the  reign  of  His  Majesty  George  the  First. 
Containing  incidents  of  courtship  and  danger  as  related  in  the 
chronicles  of  the  period  and  now  set  down  in  print. 
By  Theodore  Roberts,  author  of  "  Hemming,  the  Ad- 
venturer," "  Brothers  of  Peril,"  etc. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated   .        .        .      $1.50 

"  The  quickly  moving  narrative  is  full  of  flavor  and  spirit, 

redeemed  from  suspicion  of  mawkishness  by  a  touch  of  tender 

tragedy,  and  practically  warranted  to  hold  the  attention  from 

first  to  last."  —  The  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

TRAVELS  OF  A  LADY'S  MAID 
By  A.  B. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  .  ....      $1.50 

11  An  entertaining,  desultory  and  delightfully  naive  recital  of 
the  incidents  of  a  journey  around  the  world.  It  purports  to  be 
written  by  one  Annie  Burns,  maid  to  the  Countess  of  Glamorden, 
and  the  book  maintains  its  artistic  integrity  well.  In  its  several 
phases  as  a  journal  of  events,  as  a  reflex  of  the  English  point  of 
view  on  American  history  and  institutions,  or  even  as  a  simple 
romance,  it  makes  enjoyable  reading."  —  Chicago  News. 


12  L.  C.  PAGE  6-  COMPANY 

PEGGY  AT  SPINSTER  FARM 

By  Helen  M.  Winslow,  author  of  "  Literary  Boston  of  To- 
Day,"  etc. 
Illustrated  from  original  photographs  by  Mary  G.  Huntsman. 

12mo $1.50 

Whatever  Miss  Winslow  writes  is  good,  for  she  is  in  accord 
with  the  life  worth  living.  The  Spinster,  her  niece  "  Peggy," 
the  Professor,  and  young  Robert  Graves,  —  not  forgetting 
Hiram,  the  hired  man,  make  a  very  cheerful  company. 

"  Very  alluring  is  the  picture  she  draws  of  the  old-fashioned 
house,  the  splendid  old  trees,  the  pleasant  walks,  the  gorgeous 
sunsets,  and  —  or  it  would  not  be  Helen  Winslow  —  the  cats." — 
The  Boston  Transcript. 

"  '  Peggy  at  Spinster  Farm  '  is  a  rewarding  volume,  original 
and  personal  in  its  point  of  view,  redolent  of  unfeigned  love  for 
the  country  and  the  sane,  satisfying  pleasures  of  country  life."  — 
Milwaukee  Free  Press. 

THE  GOLDEN  DOG 

A  Romance  of  Quebec.    By  William  Kirby. 

New  authorized  edition,  printed  from  new  plates.    Illustrated 

by  J.  W.  Kennedy. 

One  vol.,  library  12mo,  cloth $1.25 

A  powerful  romance  of  love,  intrigue,  and  adventure  in  the 
times  of  Louis  XV.  and  Madame  de  Pompadour.  Mr.  Kirby  has 
shown  how  false  prides  and  ambitions  stalked  abroad  at  this 
time,  how  they  entered  the  heart  of  man  to  work  his  destruction, 
and  particularly  how  they  influenced  a  beautiful  demon  in  female 
form  to  continued  vengeances."  —  Boston  Herald. 

HER  BOSTON  EXPERIENCES 

By  Anna  Farquhar  (Margaret  Allston). 
One   volume,    large    16mo,    cloth,    gilt   top,    profusely   illus- 
trated     $1.25 

"  The  first  book  for  Bostonians  to  read  is  '  Her  Boston  Ex- 
periences.'   It  will  do  them  good."  —  The  Literary  World. 
u  The  book  is  really  enormously  clever."  —  Boston  Times. 

THE  PHILADELPHIANS 

As  Seen  by  a  New  York  Woman.    By  Katharine  Bing- 
ham (pseud.). 

Large  12mo,  cloth,  gilt  top,  with  illustrations  by  Alice  Barbour 

Stephens  and  George  Gibbs  .  ...      $1.25 

"  The  story  has  a  tone  and  finish  that  place  it  high  among  the 

season's  novels  of  character,  and  the  best  of  Philadelphia  is 

accurately  and  thoroughly  described."  —  Boston  Transcript. 


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